Attraction
by gelfling
Summary: SasuNaru, NaruGaara, slight KakaSasu, yaoi. Naruto embraces his demonic roots, and Sasuke's his 1 enemy and dream. Blood, DARK, angst, lime, non-fluff introspective. And a bag of chips. Push something too hard, and it will break or bite back.
1. I: Meetings

A/N:  Ahem.  Hi!  Some notes, since they would be rather boring in the story:

*  You don't really need to read this blurb here, it's just basic info to make things flow smooth.

*  Add 7 years to the current timeline; that makes Naruto around 19, and everybody close to his age.

*  Naruto left the Konoha village about 5 years ago, and was not heard from again.

*  A nicer version of this heads-up can be found in the fic Demon King by Japime Gurl which inspired this spin-off, also on fanfiction.net, the only difference is that Naruto's base is in an alternate dimension in her story, and Naruto's base is still on the same world in mine.

*  Using more conventional magic/psychic rules in here rather than the ones in Naruto™, since I'm not sure what they are.

*  This is a companion/sequel fic to Vignette; you don't need to read both fics to understand one, but Vignette is in the same universe, but earlier in the timeline.

*  This AU, hopefully not _too_ OCC, but I think there's a little bit of character changes.  Some.  Not too much I hope.

           Attraction 

by gelfling 

gelfling8604@yahoo.com

***

I've been what people wanted for the longest time.

I've been that damn fox Naruto.  I've been hated since before I knew life, for crimes I didn't commit, hated without knowing why.  Without even knowing _why_, Iruka-sensei.

You hated me too, for a time, but I can almost forgive that.  Pay back the favor, so to speak.  But the truth is, that I can't forgive everyone else.  I guess I'm just not that compassionate!  

I guess maybe I am a cold-blooded murderer, a real demon among demons, and the villagers…you especially Iruka-sensei, really don't deserve that.  You really don't deserve me.  You're a nice guy, I should know…and you really don't deserve to have a guy like me around.  I'd probably never have been a good ninja…never made Hokage either…

No one trusts a demon.  It's the smart thing to do, really.

So I've decided that I'm going to repay my gratitude to the people of this village, who took care of my upbringing, my development—my childhood memories, as it were, by becoming exactly what they want.  By becoming exactly what they desire.  By finally granting them that long awaited wish they've held so close to their hearts.

And I present it to you now.

I am the Demon Fox creature Nine Tails.  I am Naruto Uzumaki, the Forbidden Child.  I am the Demon King of the Northern Land.  I am…the worst plague upon the earth like that which has never been seen before.

And only a few select like yourself will survive my wrath.

As I speak, the village town—and all her libraries and storages and hospitals—is up in flame, and the survivors are being hunted down now.  And so far…no one's come to stop me.  

I think I'm a little disappointed.

--Naruto Uzumaki to Iruka, at the destruction of Konohagakure Village

***

Some months earlier…

"Do you like it?" Naruto asked casually. 

Sasuke considered himself an elite ninja capable of dealing with nearly anything, yet still capable of screwing up.  Yet, he never understood why he had been chosen for _this_ particular mission.  It wasn't his _thing_.

It was important, undoubtedly, as everyone was tired of blood and darkness and madness, and when the village had received a diplomatic messenger from the infamous northern Demon King, it had seemed like a light at the end of the tunnel.  The Demon King was ready to talk peace.  He wanted to end the bloodshed, and was hoping to declare a truce and treaty instead of either side suffering more.

Yet why Sasuke and Sakura had been selected by Hokage personally to be diplomats was unnerving and senseless.  The Demon King had set up a mock empire in the North, away from the Leaf Ninja's district, and had completely decimated the Stone Ninja's that had lived in that area in a few surprised and confused months.  A few had survived the initial slaughter, and had fled to neighboring villages such as Leaf with the haunting story of fear and death.  

They had been attacked without warning.  They had been attacked without mercy.  And now the village—and Hokage leader, and ninja, were gone.  Dead or destroyed, whichever fit.  

It was an impossible story, and impossible event.  It was completely true.  

A ninja district had been wiped out.

A whole _district_, a whole society, a whole _culture_ and wealth of techniques and professionals and Jutsu Masters and regular working people were wiped out.

The response from the other Ninja districts had been disbelief.  Then a deep roiling boiling rage.  And then uncertainty.  And then fear.

The invaders were invaded by small groups from the other villages almost immediately, informally, and then by larger groups, and then by a whole lot of people formally.  

And suddenly, the Demon King wanted to talk politics.  

Over time, Naruto had proved himself to be an excellent tactician, choosing his opponents and battlefields carefully, thoughtfully, and sometimes jumping in with the same recklessness he personified.  He had hung up his prankster jacket and goggles in the closet to don a sharper, darker, militaristic overcoat with the same enthusiasm and determination he had the Konoha headband.  

The kitsune was still capable of spontaneous, reckless attacks on the well prepared and unsuspecting alike, and was still capable of completely of _losing_ his battles miserably.  However, people began to fear the reckless, stupid attacks all the more, as they were often used as a distraction while bigger, vulnerable targets were hit and hit _hard_, massacred, even if they weren't useful at all.  

The Kage no Bunshin had given Naruto unusual insight on how to best divide his forces and get the "jump" on someone…and experience had taught him to go for the kill.  His mastery at illusion had grown exceptionally dangerous once he had learned the key: 

_Don't fool the eyes.  Fool the mind._  

From there it had led to intense games of illusion, shadow, cloning, and low-key mind control and manipulation.  

_Go for the mind, not the eyes.  Go for the soul, not the body._

The epitome of Naruto's genius was recorded in a massacre between three separate ninja teams who were pursuing the elusive demon, two from Leaf's own village, the third coming from the scattered hard-bitten and bitter survivors of Land of the Stones ninja.  The battle consisted of five Chunnin, three Gennin, an unidentifiable Jounin, and of course the killer himself.  

Sasuke had been one of the examiners to look upon and study the ends of the battle two days after, and one of the few to piece together what had happened.  It had rained lightly a little before; a rare summer rain, and the sun had dried out the mud to a dull crust in the edges of the forest.  

All of the pursuers were, expectedly, dead, and there was no sign of the killer.  The curious thing was that all the ninja had been killed with standard ninja projectile weapons, shuriken, kunai, and insanely long needles and knives, and showed no unusual wounds.    

It was suggested that perhaps the killer had been a rogue ninja, someone with a name and past, someone one with records and files—until the weapons each ninja was carrying, missing, and how many were found in tree bark or human flesh, were counted.  And everything added up.  There wasn't an unaccounted for knife or wound anywhere.  Everything added up.

There was apparently only one thing that the killer had left.  Amongst the tangled roots, burned wood, and churned up earth of misplaced Jutsu, amongst the bodies and stray weapons, amongst the sandaled and booted footprints of the victims, a pair of bare, five toed human shaped feet had been cast into the dry mud.  A pair of footprints.  That was it.

It had been a female Gennin, of Leaf, and the unknown Jounin who had put the puzzle pieces together.  

The girl had been found at the base of a tree, curled up with her head between her knees and her mouth slack, a long knife, shinier than the ones shinobi liked to use but still carried, clutched in one hand, her eyes stabbed brutally and one wrist cut lightly.  She wasn't hurt anywhere else.

The Jounin was found some kilometers south of the main site, where he had pursued the killer, and his head severed from his body and his katana sword clutched tightly in a death grip in his hand.  The female Gennin had caused some chilling speculations to be raised.  

The blade of the katana was studied.  The cut of the wound was studied.  His head had been cut off with his own sword, but whether he had done it or it had been framed to look like he had, nobody wanted to say.

And again, littered and overlapping in the dry mud around the Jounin, were the bare, human footprints and now human handprints.  The tracks were erratic here, frantic, and the killer had been hit badly and stabbed when he fell sliding into the mud.  This had not been easy.  Yet the Jounin was dead, and the killer was not.

Only a few useful things were learned from this: the killer was roughly 140 pounds, was human, and wore size eight shoes.  And was apparently unarmed at the time.

Sasuke had seen the dried mud; dirty cold bodies that were decomposing remarkably fast thanks to the rain, humidity, and heat of the summer climate.  Even after two days, there was still a feeling of madness in the air, of confusion.  He hadn't needed his Sharingan to know that nobody had known what the hell was going on that night, with the rain lightly obscuring sight and sound and smell, and the alien, evil thoughts in their own heads driving them to madness.  

Anger, rage, horror, all built up in him as he read the words beside the Jounin shinobi, the last to fall, written in earth with a finger, confident that they wouldn't be washed away.

_Shinobi._

_Shadow walkers._

_Smoke and mirrors._

_Shinobi._

Sasuke's face betrayed no emotion.  

Inside, his mind and heart were racing as he realized the depth of the planning, of the subterfuge.  Shinobi were shadow men, who moved in the darkness and used like a shield and weapon.  That was their realm, their stronghold.  Smoke and mirrors…another word for magic trickery, for sleight of hands gimmicks, for illusions.  Illusions.  One saw a reflection in the mirror.  And all the shinobi had been killed by ninja weapons...by their own weapons, and by each other.

_It was a trap.  The rain, the woods, the running…it had all been a giant trap.  And all the enemy had needed were illusions, manipulations, and allowed the rest to provide itself._

Unspoken, unwritten, unbidden, the subtext rose into Sasuke's mind: They weren't safe in the shadows.  They weren't safe anywhere.  They weren't good enough.  They never had a chance, weren't even worth the effort.  Will the rest prove any better?

Unpredictable.  Who and what would be targeted were hard to predict: the demon king's movements were notoriously random and lacked all logic and limit.  

The ambition, recklessness, energy and creativity that was Naruto.  The power, experience, skill, and bloodlust that was the Nine-Tailed Demon Fox. 

Hokage the Third, and others who knew of Naruto's "condition", had always known that combined correctly, the two would be unstoppable in the same way Hokage knew water would be deadly if it was inflammable.  They were opposites.  They weren't supposed to work together, they weren't supposed to work in _sync_.  

If by chance the seal was ever broken, it was always assumed that the Nine Tailed Demon Fox would dominate Naruto and cause destruction and death, or Naruto would fight it and dominate and control it.  No one ever suspected that the two could work in sync, towards the same goal.  They weren't supposed to _have_ the same goal.  It was nearly against the rules.  It was nearly impossible.  

Even Gaara, who had more knowledge and control over his own sealed demon, couldn't work _with_ it, he could only use it in small bursts and unleash it full on his enemy and prayed everything went well.  But even Gaara couldn't control his demon completely.  

And then Naruto had made it work.

"Well?" Naruto drawled lazily as he leaned against the door, arms crossed and one leg propped up.  "Is it good enough, or do you want something different?"

Are _you_ good enough, Sasuke?

Sasuke threw him a cold, distant glance over his shoulder, before turning back.  In truth, he had been expecting something cold, dark, and hard.  He had even suspected the self-styled "Demon king" of swinging to an opposite extreme, and having something lavish and grotesque.  But Naruto had gotten good at surprises.

The room was spacious, with very dark polished wood floors accented with thin pale woven rugs laid about with tactical symmetry, the bed centered and against one wall was a comfortable queen-size with natural cotton sheets and a deep blue comforter.  A desk and swivel chair, small nightstand, and full-length mirror next to the French closet were the only pieces of furniture in the room, tastefully arranged so that the space was equally divided among them and make the room seem larger than it really was.

Sasuke was impressed.  Personally, he never paid attention to interior decorating except in an objective sense.  His own living quarters back home were still the stark, Spartan design they had been since he was a child.  And yet…this, he had to admit, was nice.  It was very nice.  He liked it.  

_Naruto designed this.  He was counting on me, _Sasuke thought.  Naruto had planned this—the room, his reaction—for a reason.

A Chinese paper lamp—battery powered—shared the nightstand with a creamy blue ceramic vase that held two white lilies and some slender twisted branches.  Burnished dull gold had been worked into the dark wooden doors of the closet to create a mountain landscape, and again around the mirror's edge to create a _tiny_ trailing vine on which dull, even tinier silver-blue flowers bloomed.  The walls were an extremely pale sophisticated gray with two narrow watercolors framed on it; one was close to the nightstand, the other was across from the bed.

"It's very nice," Sasuke stated, as dryly and deadpan as he could, which was extraordinarily well.  "Thank you."

Naruto gave a small, cold grin at Sasuke's back—who obviously wasn't going to turn around to acknowledge him unless he absolutely had to.  A single silent chuckle bobbed in Naruto's throat, and his eyes sparkled darkly.

He would always treasure Sasuke's look of shock when he had seen Naruto waiting for him at the end of the hall, older, taller than before but still shorter than Sasuke, dressed in a plain black shirt with a dark red padded duster over it, his hands in his pockets and a smile on his lips.  Naruto's hair was still blond, still cut short, his eyes still blue, and he was still shorter and slighter than Sasuke and still smiling.  

It was like Naruto from Sasuke's childhood.

Yet they called him the Demon King.  He called himself the Demon King.  Everyone…

Naruto had killed all those people.  Naruto killed people.  He wasn't…he wasn't his Naruto anymore.

"Glad to hear it.  You'll find your things next to the closet; we'll speak further in the morning."

***

A/N:

Jagga!  And that's the first chapter.  Not too much action I'm afraid, more description and narration, I hope didn't bore anyone.  It can be kinda boring at times.  No worries, the second chapter has _limey_ stuff…goodness is nice.  


	2. I: Dream Couch

Attraction 

By gelfling

gelfling8604@yahoo.com

//_Thoughts//_

_::Invading thoughts_::

***

It was the kind of funny taste that happened when someone stuck their tongue on a 9-volt battery- that 'Wow, that was kind of cool, do it again' taste. 

--Yohji, _A Day Without Rain_, Mami-san(Weiss Kruz fanfic)

"Thou shall not kill. What the hell kind of Church man are you anyway?" 

-- Vash, _Trigun_

  
"Just because you're paranoid, doesn't mean they're not after you."  
--Nirvana 

Blow on me.

--Ratbert, Scott Adams

***

"Sooo…I'm still a bit new to all this, procedure and whatnot, so how about we start by me telling you everything I want and then you can tell me what everybody else wants, and they we can just sort of see where they overlap.  Sound good?"

_//Good morning_,// thought Sasuke.  //_I'm still in hell, or somewhere very close to it.//_

The bed, Sasuke was disgusted to say, was complexly firm, in the intricate rich way firm beds are made not to kill the owner's spine, but actually relax and support it better than the normal soft mattresses could.  The temperature was also warm throughout the whole night, not unbearably warm, but in a building built entirely so much stone, one would expect the temperature to be freezing.  And it _wasn't_.  Naruto really had mastered the art of pissing people off, Sasuke decided.  The key wasn't to make them uncomfortable.  It was to keep them surprised.  

"Yes.  Go ahead."

_//And kill yourself.  Jerk.  Arrogant self-assured prick.//_

It was the way Naruto smiled, like he knew exactly what was going on, and knew, just absolutely _knew_, he was going to come out on top of everything.  Not a moment of doubt, not one glimpse of human failing or humility.  It was _irritating.  _

It was only somewhat gratifying to remember that Naruto's pride had always gotten the better of him in the past.  With his new attitude, Sasuke gave him a month working in day lit world, and not in the shadows anymore.  He meant to see to that personally.  This wasn't his Naruto.  There wasn't a scrap of his Naruto left inside there.   He didn't…

_//Nine Tails?  Could Naruto…was it possible he was being controlled?//_

Sasuke had spent the better part of the night thinking that thought over, that even though the smile, the eyes, even the voice and movements were his Naruto's, there was no way Naruto's heart could have truly been able to do all those things that had happened.  Not Naruto, the kid who couldn't even kill a rabbit.  Who couldn't even kill _anyone, really, not even the monster Gaara, or Mizuki the traitor who would've killed Iruka.  Naruto didn't have the heart to kill anyone.  _

So it couldn't have been Naruto-completely- behind the smile.  It was Naruto's body, his voice, but it had to be Nine Tail's bloodlust that was running through it.  That had to be it.  Naruto had anger, but not bloodlust.  He just _didn't_ have it.  The years could change a person, yes, but not that much.  

That sole thought, logic and reason paired with it, gave Sasuke hope during the night.  Hope that everything still had a chance to come out clean.  That no one else would have to die.  That maybe Naruto was still in there, somewhere.  And all it would take to get him back was to discover how Nine Tails had gained control and then take care of it.  And banish Nine Tails again.

Permanently.  

In front of him, spiked hair smoothed out of his face and his red duster and black shirt, looking immaculate and dressed up the way rock stars do, where the sloppiness and grunge and spikes is all carefully planned, was Naruto.  

Nodding his head in acknowledgment, Naruto grabbed some thick folders from the floor and placed them on the table, waited until Sasuke sat down at the table close by, and started to talk.  And talk, talk, talk, until Sasuke was danger of forgetting to think.  He had really grown to love the sound of his own voice, it seemed.  

And still wanted food.  Wanted a _Lot_ of food: trading rights, huge buys in land, farming, rice, produce, trade routes, fishing and hunting rights, the works.    Naruto wanted a lot, wanted from nearly everybody, and wanted it soon.  And the real surprising part was, he was willing-and even _able_- to pay for it all.

_//How big is his organization that he needs so much?…or gang, really.  Mob.//_

He explained at length what his empire had to offer: Protection and other services that before only Ninja had provided, antiques, straight gold, wide-scale operations, and, Sasuke was led to believe, an army-for-hire.  For what war, what reason, he didn't even want to think about.  

_//A mob empire.  Thugs for hire.  This whole thing…Is that *it*?//_

Sasuke made a point not to let a single thought show in his face or eyes, even for a second.  Even though Naruto was constantly moving and leafing through papers, he barely ever took his eyes off of Sasuke.

Naruto also wanted diplomatic acknowledgement, from all other established Ninja districts, and countries themselves.  And, Sasuke was, again, very surprised to find…Naruto had done his homework.  He knew…things.  Historical things.  Facts, about other countries, that should've taken him years to know, things he would never, _ever learn willingly.  About economics.  He could even guess at rice prices in Konoha and the far South, and knew what stocks he wanted to buy in.  He wanted to go __worldwide._

Stocks.  Naruto wanted to buy _stocks_.  _//What the hell?//_

This was not what Sasuke had been expecting.  It was too overwhelming, too impossible, and far, _far_, too practical.  No tribute, no threats, no apologies.  Nothing demonic, nothing Naruto-ish.  This is where we stand: _This is what I want, this is what I have, what'll you give me?  Sasuke had been assigned this mission as a diplomat, not as a merchant…Though perhaps they were the same thing. _

He felt out of his depth.  This _wasn't_ why he had wanted to become a ninja, for cheap flowery missions like this, to listen to someone else babble while he took notes and tried to compromise everything.  Being a ninja…wasn't being a diplomat.  He wasn't trained for _this._

He gave it his all.

And for Sasuke Uchiha to give one goal his all, you knew there was a _lot_ of brainpower and sheer terrifying will going into it. 

Naruto grinned for most of the day, arguing and talking.

Never once did either bring up, or even _think about the past.  There was no familiar banter, no cheerful insults, and nothing childish or friendly or sparking rivalry.  The familiar bridge where teamwork had always connected them seemed gone.  They were strangers now, doing a job._

Sasuke avoided the subject of the people murdered.  Naruto didn't ask about home.  

Sasuke went to bed that night sure.  That thing talking to him, looking at him…That hadn't been Naruto.  He had studied it carefully, double-checking and constantly questioning himself.  It wasn't Naruto.  It was Naruto _like, but it _wasn't_ Naruto.  _

And when you've known someone some odd years, have practically eaten and breathed the same air, and had entrusted your life to them and guarded theirs and seen them at their worst and at their best and fought their demons and watched their dreams form and fall…There is a big difference, between Naruto and Naruto like. 

***

Sasuke slept.  And dreamed.  

And finally questioned: Naruto _why?_

_//Why kill them?  Why hurt so many?  What happened?  What do you want?  What is it you want?  What'll take to get you back?//_

Naruto shrugged in his adolescent carefree way, slightly bashful.  

"I just wanted to get what I wanted, that's all.  Things had to happen.  It's probably not what you were expecting, but it's why I am.  Bet you thought I was lost somewhere, huh?"

"Why me?  Why bring me here?"

"Ninja do the job in front of them, that they're told.  Don't question orders Sasuke," Naruto smiled and waved his finger childishly in front of Sasuke's face.  A spark of memory struck in Sasuke's mind.  A teacher had done that.  "Now, now, that's not what ninjas do, Sasuke-chan, remember that, if you want to become a good ninja."

_::Like your brother.  He doesn't question orders.  He's a good boy.  He does just what he's told.  He's good boy, he's a good son.::_

Make this not be happening.  Make this not be happening.

"But…Naruto…Why hurt so many?  What about becoming Hokage?"

Naruto smiled apologetically at him, before gesturing grandly to their surroundings.

The walls were covered…in a sort of red material, like velvet, with tapestries and drapes tucked in at the corners, and they were sitting side by side on either end of a lush red velvet couch.  It was rich and modern in a fashionable, classic sort of way.  Various words flashed in Sasuke's mind: Brothel, vampire, rouge…  

He didn't belong here.  Naruto didn't belong here.  But here…felt right for now.  It felt like they belonged, even though he knew they didn't.  He touched the material, and felt the cushion push back, and the velvet yield and tickle beneath his fingertips.  Naruto laughed, and Sasuke looked up quickly at him, his face colder through all the bewilderment and nagging feeling that something was off…something was changed.

"Isn't that what you wanted?" he asked again, harder, colder.  Naruto shrugged from his spot on the couch, in a room Sasuke didn't recognize, and grinned at the floor and then the corner of the room, pointedly avoiding Sasuke's eyes and question.  

"Is this for revenge, for the way you were treated?"

"Vengeance?  _Vengeance?" he asked, nearly laughing, stringing out the word while his mind whispered ever so imperceptibly,_

 ::_Itachi::_

Naruto snorted even as his eyes hardened and his teeth glimmered, "This has nothing to do with revenge.  This is conquest," Naruto grinned, showing unnaturally white teeth with the longest canines Sasuke had ever seen in a human mouth.  "Just like I said.  I will have what I want.  I will not be denied." 

Disgust unlike anything Sasuke had ever known welled up in him.  The sheer amount of selfness, arrogance, stupid theatrics and complete disregard for anybody or anything else, the absolute recklessness just-

He was sure Naruto could see this in his eyes, how completely un-thrilled he was, how totally revolted and disappointed with his former teammate and friend…and he didn't care enough to hide it, not even for diplomacy sake.  He didn't care at all.

Naruto leaned over and kissed him.

Reaction training made him pull out a kunai from near his torso and hide it in his right hand in one very smooth movement _before his body stiffened and blushed.  His breath caught in his throat.  _

Naruto stroked him softly with his lips and sighed, warm breath gusting over his cheek.

_//There's illusion magic here…//_

_…was as far a thought as Sasuke got in before the feeling of Naruto touching and tasting his mouth so delicately, so loving, so adoring, cherishing every inch and every imperfect and lustrous fiber that made up Sasuke Uchiha, completely enveloped him.  The kiss was chaste, gentle, and completely spontaneous and free.  Any second he wanted, Sasuke could move away and beat the shit out of Naruto.  Any second he wanted, he could have thrown the hell-spawn's affection back in his face and laughed, could have ground his pride into dirt under his feet.  Any second any time any when he wanted._

_So he didn't.  _

_Because Naruto…Naruto…_

_His gasped uncertainly, his eyes snapping open (when had they shut?) in shock and slight apprehension, right hand drifting protectively behind him and under him as Naruto pushed him back gently, lovingly, worshipping his lips and skin and jaw line with his lips and small, warm kisses like miniature intricate candies and rosebuds impressing his skin with warmth and delight.  _

_…his body was heating up and it was warm and soft all around him and he had the most excruciating, delightfully rare crunching and throbbing feeling in his abdomen and lower, until the very undersides of his arms and veins in his wrists, the sides of his neck and even the thin elastic skin in between his toes were all blushing and tingling with little electric fire dance fingers just a little harder to make it all better…_

_Sasuke's breathing turned very erratic, inhaling shortly three times like a rattling railroad track to exhale smoothly once.  His heart wasn't just beating hard, it was thumping like a dryer, splattering up and down and sideways and around very erratically and the way Naruto was touching him…_

_…the way Naruto was touching him…_

_…the way Naruto…_

_…the way his _**hands _were smoothly slipping him out of his shirt, fingers burning like winter's bonfire over his bare chest, over his bare muscles, making Sasuke shiver and tremble with sheer erotic joy and excitement and a great deal of fear, slipping his left arm free, long tanned fingers cupping his left hand and squeezing it, massaging it…stroking it and Sasuke moaned pitifully into the air, eyes foggy and warm, Naruto suddenly appearing in his vision._**

_A shining, extraordinary portrait of Naruto, slightly tanned skin and tousled, windblown hair a deeper truer gold than all the feral brutality Nature had to offer, his eyes an indescribable pale blue nearly like milk and lapis but nothing like the ocean and impossible to duplicate with flecks of silver and purple and savagery, something lost to society and civilization forever but not forgotten.  Lips that were generous and flexible yet tended towards a brimming mischief and curiosity, thin exotic stripes on the sides of his face that only seemed to scream danger and oddness and every brain cell was screaming at Sasuke to run or attack...while every instinct in his blood was screaming, begging, demanding to stay.  _

_To surrender.  _

//…illusion…it's just…//

_Naruto kissed him gently on the mouth, and Sasuke tilted his head more and opened his mouth, surrendering his all to the boy before him, the boy he had known and the boy he knew now and was somehow completely sure he would be safe._

_And yet it wasn't…it wasn't…_

_"Enough," Naruto murmured gently as he took his lips away, grinning slightly like it was all something very funny, and moved back and took his hands away smiling, smiling, nearly laughing like it was all too funny and he was…he was going to leave!!!_

_With a growl that was sharp Sasuke pushed Naruto up and yanked the crumpled shirt off his hand, throwing it and the kunai in it to the floor before shoving Naruto backwards and roughly down, both hands free and working feverishly at the buttons in his shirt.  _

_Flabbergasted, Naruto stared up and fought the urge to fight.  He was in control, this was his home and Sasuke had no right--_

_With that blush painting his pale cheeks and the energy, the hunger, in his eyes…Naruto didn't protest when Sasuke ripped off the rest of the buttons and cloth with a swipe of his hand and a snarl.  He sat up roughly to crush Sasuke's lips against his own, feeling them move and pressed and pulled and sucked and bite back at him and the Demon King moaned deep in the back of his throat.  _

_He felt Sasuke stiffen and touch his back at the same time, while trying to yank his shirt and overcoat off.  Naruto broke off, easing himself out of his shirt and overcoat as safely as he could in the least amount of time.  It hit the ground with a heavy metallic thud.  _

_Sasuke studied him, his own arms held loose at his sides; face a mix of ivory and salmon and as unreadable as ever, his eyes glowing too brightly.  Sasuke had only looked at Itachi that way before, with something more than disdain, something stronger than hate, a burning intensity he reserved for only his life's purpose.  _

_For a moment, Naruto thought he would storm out of the room, or attack him.  Instead, Sasuke only kept his disturbing glare, and, very deliberately, pulled a dagger out his side pants pocket, and gripped it loosely.  _

_"Do you trust me?" he murmured softly._

_Naruto's eyes danced easily, eagerly, brightly with his skilled and honed power and his omnipresent grin wafting on his lips.  With weapons or without, Sasuke was no real match for him, not here, not anywhere, not anymore._

_"Yes," Naruto answered easily, letting his voice pool as smooth and dark and warm as oil.  Sasuke dropped the knife on the floor.  He seemed less intense, more relaxed, and yet somber.  _

_"Can I trust you?"_

_Naruto blinked at that, completely mirroring his younger alter ego expression in his older body.  He allowed emotions to play over his face honestly for once.  His face looked the exact same as when he was eleven, with the startled curiosity touched with that endearing, bizarre mix of eagerness and fear.  Could he be trusted?  Could a demon be trusted?  _

_"I won't hurt you," he said, sounding very human.  "I swear it.  By my name, I won't hurt you."_

//Strange wording…what--//

_Sasuke nodded quickly before rising to his knees on the couch, hurriedly pulling at all assortments of metal and stone and other strange things, before kneeling on the couch and doing something complicated at the hemline of his pants._

_Naruto smiled blankly, widely, completely stunned, completely floored into absolute disbelief for once in his very surprising and irregular life.  _

_Sasuke had no **idea how completely like a strip tease this was…and even at the frantic, rapid rate Sasuke was going…it was still very much like a strip tease.  **_

_In fact, to be pushed out of immediate attention not because of disgust but because of the sheer amount of concentration needed to undo his own pants… to watch the rare emotions of desire and intensity to play out on the solemn and solitary face…was something infinitely intriguing._

_Right before everything, Sasuke seemed to suddenly remember Naruto was there.   Dark eyes, nearly black yet nearly gray as well, neither blue nor brown or anything conventional…held him.  Held him in the simple power and strength and focus of the owner's soul, not trying to control him because that was impossible now, Naruto wouldn't allow anything to control him now, just…holding him.  _

_Sasuke slipped to the ground with the grace of a cat before the kill, all silence and slinky movements, allowed everything to fall the floor, his eyes burning Naruto in his search for his reaction, for his thoughts and emotions and intentions.  Just burning him, just with his eyes, just like that.  _

_Naruto grinned wide, his teeth flashing in the light, eyes trailing down like water, like wine, like dark chocolate over the pale ivory skin draped elegantly over muscles laid out like the finest tiles ever designed creating a whole new type of erotic mosaic, over slender hands that could shove a man's face through the back of his skull, those angled and erotically designed shoulders and chest, covering an abdomen smooth like a model's or statue…over Sasuke's and Naruto's consensual, sensual desire and treasure, darling baby mine…and finally trailing down smooth creamy thighs, straight hips and slender runner's legs that could kick Naruto's spine out of his skin._

_And slowly, smoothly, every body part shifting and easing like smooth water without ripples or turbulence Sasuke began to walk towards Naruto._

_Naruto grinned mad like a fox, and held open his arms._

***

This bit of the story has been removed due to censorship regulations, and can found at my wonderful archiver websites, Blue and Black and the Gaara fansite Insomniac.  I having problems showing the linkies on the paper:

www.blue-black.net

I recommend reading the complete edition, since it makes the story make sense.  I also have a picky for the chapter by the wonderful Felis-san!  The link is on the complete edition.  If you have problem accessing the website or finding the missing chapter, feel free to email me at gelfling8604@yahoo.com and I'll send it to you directly.

***

A/N: Whew…I really loved this chapter.  I think this is my fave second chapter so far.  The descriptions and stuff are just so pretty!  Oh!  I also can't get into my ff.net account from home for some reason, nor can I even _review_.  Not even anonymously.  I'm not sure why, but I can't, and that's not nice at all.  Ergo, updates are gonna be kind of sporadic or very all-at-once sort of thing.

e.


	3. I: Enter the Dragon

A/N: hehe…No worries.  Will eventually be a full _out_ lemon that'll have to posted elsewhere with linkie, but there will be one.  Working on now off and on actually, but working on.

Attraction 

By gelfling

gelfling8604@yahoo.com

_//thoughts//_

_:: invading thoughts::_

***

Well, that was naughty.  

--Sean Connery, _League of Extraordinary Gentlemen_  

Trust in Allah, but tie your camel.

--Moslem Proverb

Enter the Dragon.

--Common

***

_There was an ancient, primeval tree, twisted and gnarled branched cut with deep grooves and gouges from the scythe of life.  Tiny pin-sized olive leaves just barely edged out for life at the top.  _

_Sand had been artfully raked at the roots Feng Shui style, dull gravely sand, in lines and waves and spirals going around the outside then curling inside down and down and down—_

Sasuke sat up in a jerk, his body sweating cold sheets, hair roughed up and sticking to his neck damply, eyes dilated and too wide, focused in on himself and seeing nothing.  He breathed in hard, and was swaying a little.

After a few minutes, he realized he was in the room Nar—he'd been assigned, in his own bed.  And he was alone.  The sheets were soaked, and his clothes were piled in the corner by the closet, where he had thrown them.

Nodding shakily to himself he pulled in rapid breaths, raised his knees so he could lean against them, and dropped his head into his hands.  Half an hour later, he touched his arms and legs with fingers and swore, before he got to take a cold shower.  

In the corner of his room, dim light glinted off the mirror's surface.

***

"What are they doing here?"  

Naruto was called the Demon King for two main reasons: One, he told people to, and Two, he used very powerful chakra only demons could wield.  The third unofficial reason was the people he employed.  He had realized before hand that conquering a whole lot of work for one man, even with the partnership of Nine Tails.  So he had to enlist help.

"Heh, find 'em huh?  Hope you didn't run into them; Sasuke's being an ass again, and Sakura's got a big mouth."

Gaara was, unquestionably, undeniably, absolutely, _not_ a subordinate.  

He wouldn't take orders from anyone and didn't give a fuck for respect, gratitude, or even logic.  And yet, it was quietly understood, that even though Naruto was slighter than Gaara, he _could_, if he chose, make Gaara's brain explode inside his skull with a thought and/or crush his vertebrae in one hand.  It was just as quietly understood that Gaara could easily destroy Naruto's carefully wrought fresh-off-the-grill empire.  

It was Naruto the army followed.  It was Gaara they feared and obeyed.  If not for Gaara's surly suspicious bastard-by-Nature disposition and usual homicidal tendencies, Naruto would have seriously suffered two major coup d'états.  After everything, Naruto still had some problems hurting people who worked for him.  Gaara was, as always, a pro at it.

"Why the hell are they _here_?" Gaara grated out.

Naruto winced, then turned around with his famous fox grin.  This would not be simple to explain.  

He inhaled deeply, "I have reasons," Gaara remained unmoved, "and they're _good_ reasons.  Great reasons, really."

Naruto got a good long look of Gaara's expression. 

"I just—haven't told you.  Yet.  But I'm going to," Naruto glanced down at this fingers, studied his fingernails, and counted the days quick.  Yep, it was that time again.  He reached down quickly and snagged a bottle of rice wine.  Neither Gaara nor Naruto were big drinkers, but it lent to the mood.  

"In fact, let's go talk about it now.  My room."

With a smile he turned and started walking, not bothering to check if Gaara was coming.  It didn't surprise him to find the other demon-holder waiting next to his bedroom door.  He wasn't sure how Gaara did it or why, but if it kept him happy Naruto wasn't going to ask.  

Naruto nodded a greeting, which Gaara ignored, laid his hand on the door handle, paused, pushed it open, and flopped onto the bed.  Gaara openly dripped disdain and disinterestedly got two glass tumblers out while Naruto struggled with the bottle stopper.

It was obnoxious, Gaara repeatedly said, how Naruto behaved like he was some—_normal_ child, with CDs littered on the desk next to detailed schematics of buildings and landscapes and notes, cheap porn and anime videos shoved under and around the bed that had a hundred different weapons shoved into it.  The thick dark ancient stonewalls were covered with bright Playboy covers and rock singer posters.  

Naruto said it helped him think.  Gaara said it was pathetic.  

Gaara's own room was empty; he was hardly in there, and forbid Naruto from "decorating" it.  It was a just a place to keep extra clothes to him; nothing more.

Naruto bounced up and twisted, the bottle open and generously filled both tumblers.  

Control was a precarious thing.

Gaara would do most of what Naruto said because it usually made sense, and was something Gaara would enjoy, and had made very, very certain, that Naruto would never ever even _think_ of using him lightly.  

The initial agreement had been simple: Gaara would be where and do what Naruto said in attacks, and would get plenty of money, people to kill, and most all he would get fear.  Beyond that Naruto had no hold over him, nor Gaara over Naruto, and Gaara could be as erratic and free as he liked.    

Gaara had first thought Naruto's plan to be a stupidity that would be a fun time spent dicking and killing around in when Naruto had first come to him alone, and burning with ambition of world domination and anger.  

Later, when things began to get serious, Gaara was far too intrigued to stop, and found himself strangely, wondrously intoxicated with the feelings of power and control and lust rushing through his body.  Listening to Naruto and following someone else's ideas was no longer a big problem.

And--besides Naruto--he held the highest standing in the impromptu army of exiled ninjas, odd thieves, 'dead' spies, and people who were—different.  Supernaturally so.  

The outcasts, the witches, the gypsies…the people who saw things a little more than they were supposed to, and didn't quite walk and talk the way normal people did.  The people who were different, and couldn't live in one place for too long.  The people who watched from the darkness, who got drunk in the allies like homeless bums out of rage and sorrow and guilt.  

The people who never seemed to die.  No matter how many times they were buried.

It was amazing how many were really out there.  It was amazing how many came to Naruto.

What they _were_ exactly, how they came to be, nobody was quite sure.  If Naruto knew through Nine Tails, he said nothing helpful, not even to Gaara.  But Naruto had an uncanny knack for finding them in their allies and sewers, in the dark places were no one went, and for reading them as if they were old friends and family, and later for finding their potential, training them and using them.     

The combination of humanity and paranormal used with 'them' was one of the finest mergers Naruto and Nine Tails ever did.

Gaara wasn't quite an equal partner, but he wasn't just second-in-command.  He was in no way a subordinate.  He was somewhere in between, and that suited him fine.  

Besides, Temari and Kankuro were here also, living rich and busy lives, and he almost never saw them.  They were alive, they were near, they were being well treated and beyond that Gaara didn't care too much.

He sneered as the smell of alcohol reached his nose on general principle; the smell actually didn't bother him anymore.  He stood, glowering, while Naruto sat on the edge of the bed, head bowed and fiddling with the drink in his hands.  

It was a matter of pride that Gaara would not speak until Naruto did.

"Sasuke and Sakura are both expert shinobi, and they've been the closest to screwing me up and figuring me out.  Sasuke especially, since he knows me so well and because of the Sharingan eye.  It was only a matter of time before he identified the chakra as mine, and started tracing and predicting me by it.  And _that_, would have been a serious pain in the ass.  And Sakura's the reason why our last mission in the Kebokki village fell apart on us."

Two of their men had been captured, one other killed.  Gaara frowned.

"I thought that was that Mist Chunnin—Iori Shigarei."

That was what everyone had said, what had been officially reported back.  Yet Gaara's voice held a trace of doubt.  Naruto was often senseless and insane, yet rarely dead-wrong.  

"No, that was her, she was there.  She pulled a similar trick when I was working with her.  Impressed the hell outta me.  She always did have a great understanding of energy."

For a moment, Naruto's façade dropped only to have another replace it.  Homesickness, bitterness, nostalgia—and yet it was still all an act.  Gaara was fairly sure of that.  Naruto was more honest with him than anybody else, but Gaara still knew he wasn't being told the whole truth.  Naruto lay down on the bed staring at the ceiling, his glass balanced on his stomach.

"So point one: If they're working with me, they can't be out there working against me.  Point two: It throws everybody else off-guard.  I, heheh, _invited_ them here on a _diplomatic_ mission."

Gaara twitched.  He hadn't heard a word of it before now.

"Ya know, discussing the terms of _legitimacy_, conquer stoppage, boundaries and laws and treaties and all sorts of boring stuff.  I deal directly and only with Sasuke, he tells it to Sakura, and she writes it off to Leaf, they spread it around like good neighbors, and then they write her back."

Gaara couldn't hold it anymore, and didn't give a damn how Naruto was going to take it.  The words ran through his mind, and even as he opened his mouth to form them—And how the _hell_ does that help us?  Now they know our weaknesses, our faces, how the hell does that throw them—he closed his mouth.  Because it did.  But—

Naruto was watching him from the corner of his eye with a small grin on his face.  Gaara glared, and steel could have been sharpened on his voice.

"It's too risky.  And this _isn't_ nearly my idea of an empire.  I wanted more."  

Naruto smiled weakly, and shrugged, tucking one arm under his head.

"It's risky, but not so much.  Sasuke's going to be getting all his information from _me_, and for as long as _they_ think we're getting ready to…I don't know, to wash up, and become official and neighborly, they won't be suspecting an attack.  They'll still be on edge, yes, angry, yes, but the talkers have the spotlight, the do-ers have to wait…They're worried.  they don't want to fight if they don't have to."

"It's a scam."

"Of course.  Leaf's considered to be the 'leading force'" Naruto gave a good impression of a sci-fi narrator, deepening his voice dramatically and elongating the words, "against demons, thingies, and all other bad and evil things that go _bump_ in the night ever since the 4th took care of Nine-Tails.  It's not official, but the other shinobi districts are watching them for guidance, letting the Konoha ninjas lead.  Setting up diplomatic relations directly only backs up that idea.  And when the Konoha village and its ninja are completely wiped off the map; everyone else will begin to fall.  Domino effect."

Was that Naruto speaking, or the ancient Nine-Tails?  The words and gestures were Naruto, immature and casual, but the tone was very old, very professional.  

Where others would feel fear, Gaara felt a small stab of envy, that Naruto could combine completely with his demon without losing himself.  

"It's a basic set-up, pumping up the hero to later take him out.  And the talker I sent to the village really believes we're rooting for peace, so they won't know she's lying, because she isn't."

"She?"

Gaara rubbed his thumb against the glass and relaxed into a bored slouch.  Naruto shrugged again.  

"Some people have trouble killing a girl.  And I sent a guy with her too, covered in tattoos and earrings so he looks the piece.  Fed him the same story, and he's a little stronger and stupider than her."

"And how do you expect to keep Sasuke and the girl from picking up bad details and sending them home?  They'll have some system on the messages."

"Yeah, I know.  We don't touch the mail.   We shouldn't have to, and forgery is what they'll be expecting.  Sakura's roped off to one section, and the people she'll be in contact with are actors who know how to sweep and scrub, and they think they know more than they should, when they really know nothing.  She'll get the info she's fishing for, but it'll be junk.  She'll never see or meet me, and Sasuke's going to be dealing exclusively with me, and he's promised me not to tell her who I am.  My name."

"And he's going to keep that promise because he's a nice guy."

Naruto sighed loudly, and sat up.  Gaara was reliable in his unpredictable, depressingly pissed-off and homicidal way, something Naruto had come to value deeply in people, but sometimes Gaara was also damn irritating.  

"Noo~oo…because I've vowed to cut all relations with them if he did.  He doesn't want that yet.  And if he does tell, I'll know," Naruto snapped his fingers, "like that.  Instantly.  And things will become messy very quickly.  Sasuke can't lie to me, not if I'm paying attention.  And they can't know who I am, not yet."

There was fire in Naruto's voice, and Gaara's skin crawled delightfully hearing it.  He was also happy about the word "messy".  

"The Hokage might still have a trick up his sleeve dealing with the Kyubbi's seal.  They already suspect it's me; they just haven't found anything to back it up with.  I don't want to give them proof.  _They_ _can't have proof_."  

Naruto turned quickly to lock eyes with Gaara.  "I'd appreciate it if you kept out of sight as well, so they don't know our strengths.  I've already told the big boys the same."

Gaara stared back openly, and pushed down the automatic rebellion that swelled, the small bit of flattery helping him a great deal.  He blinked once.  Naruto nodded, and turned his attention back to the wall.

And if Sasuke so much as gave Sakura a _hint_, Naruto would know by feeling her mind.  He'd meant it when he said that all their conversations would remain private; he'd never said anything about watching how their minds shaped and colored and moved while they talked.  He'd recognize his name or anything referred to him instantly.  

"And, finally, point three is," Naruto paused dramatically, and Gaara grimaced in disgust at the grin in Naruto's voice, raising his drink to his lips before realizing that Naruto hadn't even sipped his.  He lowered his glass again.  

"Reactions.  I want to know how far I can go…and a lot of people, unfortunately, think like Sasuke and Sakura.  By watching them, messing with them, I get a good idea on people's expectations and where to go.  I learn I how far I can push before the majority begins to bend, break, or get _reely_ angry.  And while Sasuke's a bitch to read, he's gotta stereotypical mindset, and Sakura will help me dilute and define everything out.  And uh…that's pretty much it."

Naruto turned to look at Gaara with a smile on, and a faint searching look in his pale blue eyes.  Gaara belatedly realized that Naruto was trying to read him for _his_ reactions to the plan.  For his open first opinion.

Gaara nodded slightly, once.  

"Great.  Then, I guess…Cheers."

Naruto held up his glass and Gaara stared at it blankly before he remembered procedure.  Glass clinked.  Naruto tipped his glass back, draining it in one chug, coughing and laughing brokenly after it was down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  

Rim at his lips, Gaara watched this display of honest cheer and cheap theatrics, before gently sipping his own drink, letting the taste roll over his tongue.  Besides the general burning and smell, he couldn't sense anything strange.  

Naruto tossed his glass onto a pile of clothes, before flopping backwards on his bed, arms open.  

"You know, I don't like poisoners, Gaara-kun."

Gaara glanced at Naruto over the lip of his glass.  

"No, but you like to drug people."

Naruto heaved a deep sigh and pouted.  "Alcohol _is_ a drug, why would I add to it?  Why would I try to drug _you_?"

"You tell me."

Naruto swore not-so-softly, before sticking his tongue out at Gaara and turning and curling to give him his back.  

"And while you're explaining that," Gaara continued, "You can explain why you were having sex with Sasuke."

There was a pause, and Naruto was motionless.  You could _hear_ the trap waiting to swing shut, for that one conspicuous twig to crack.  

"I didn't have sex with Sasuke."

Gaara was losing patience and ground his teeth.  Just because Naruto _thought_ he could lie well didn't mean he did.  

"You were sucking his _dick_.  That's called oral sex, and yes it does count!" he continued, anticipating Naruto's next question.  

"Well you're knowledgeable… I didn't know _you_ were watching though.  Wasn't paying attention.  Did you happen to tape it?"

Gaara snorted in disgust and took a swig of his drink.

"No, didn't cross my mind."

"We were that good huh?"

"No, you were that boring.  And why the hell did you do it, anyway?"  

Naruto's nonchalance had actually taken the sting from Gaara's earlier attitude.  At the very least he'd been expecting some shame, some guilt…but since the professional and very old tone was still in Naruto's voice, he was somewhat comforted that it all hadn't been a random act of passion, but rather one of precision.  

Naruto shrugged.  

"Dunno, it was fun…and Sasuke's always been easy on the eyes for a cold bastard---And he's such a straight arrow that this'll haunt him forever, or at least give him nightmares.  Keep him jumping, doubting himself, his sanity…that sort of thing."  

Naruto chuckled darkly in his throat.  

"He's never thought of the class dunce _that_ way before, and now he's gonna.  Because the great Naruto Uzumaki has grown up, and old Sasuke-kun's gonna a find he's gotta whole _new_ bag of tricks……Want to know anything else about my sex life, Gaara-kun?  You know I'll tell you _anything_."

Naruto stretched out on his back so he could flutter his eyelashes and smile adoringly, looking every bit like a kitten who sees a ball of yarn.

Gaara snorted and twirled the glass between his fingers.

"_Anything_?  Only lies—And I really don't want to wash in any bleach today, no thanks…my brain's dirty enough as it is…"

Naruto curled up again giving Gaara his back, and grinned unobserved.  They both knew that the main reason for the alcohol was to get Gaara relaxed, which he found difficult to consciously do.  Naruto, for all his bitterness and blood thirst, was still a social guy, and looked mainly to Gaara for company now.  

Gaara had proven that he trusted Naruto's ideas and skills, if not his motives, and his comments and barbs had lost their sting to them over the years.  If he was disgusted or angry, he told Naruto openly, occasionally sought his company, and demanded only his privacy.    

They didn't trust each other, not completely, but loneliness made people do crazy things.  And if alcohol was needed to loosen his tongue and his control, the so be it.  It wasn't much of a price to pay, Gaara reflected, for the prize.  But he still slept closest to the door.  

"Scoot over," Gaara commanded.

Naruto scowled at him darkly over his shoulder, before letting himself completely collapse on the bed and gripped it with his hands, snuggling deeper into the bed.

"No, I'm comfy."

"_Now_!"

_//Damn, he's really drunk…//_

"_NO!—_Hey, you can't" 

Naruto squeaked rather Naruto-ishly as he was tossed easily to the other edge of the king sized bed, struggled for balance as Gaara sat down and counted to two on which Naruto fell to the floor with a thud, and shot his hand to the side as Naruto came racing only to be floored and pinned with one arm.  

Gaara had gotten stronger.  Naruto, it seemed, had only grown smarter and louder as he swore and cursed.  

He was eventually let up, still swearing and complaining loudly, while Gaara laid down on the edge closest to the door, hands on his stomach and completely ignoring Naruto.  Gaara was kicked in the ankle as Naruto stood on the bed to go turn of the light, the bounced up and down as Naruto stomped his way back up the bed.  

Naruto had carefully taken off his shoes and red duster before going back up, and hung it on the back of his chair diligently.  It was one of the few things he actually took care of openly.  The act itself was a deliberate sign of trust.  

Despite the informal 'agreements' Naruto and Gaara had, Gaara was still strong enough and willing to twist Naruto's head straight off from his body.  Both boys still, and probably always would, look younger than they really were.  Thanks to the demon energy running through them, neither could scar easily, and the aging process was slowed down.  Naruto had always been shorter than his classmates, and Gaara had always been very short for his family.  Sasuke and even Sakura were easily a little taller than either of them, and looked far more mature.  

Thanks to his blood lusty streak though, Gaara could easily tap stores of adrenalin, and was still physically stronger than Naruto.  Without weapons, with only his chakra and mind tricks, getting close to Gaara was a real danger for Naruto.  Naruto went to him now, grumbling and unarmed, while Gaara waited on his back.

With a grunt and a pout, Naruto collapsed next to him and poked his cheek hard with one finger, obtaining the same effect as throwing spit wads at a blast door.  

Gaara continued to ignore him.  There were very, very few things in life that Naruto hated worst than being ignored.  

Naruto sighed loudly, and cupped one hand over the side of Gaara's face, and the other splayed over his heart.  Both of Gaara's hands, long, wide, and obviously strong, encircled both wrists like manacles.  It was just a gesture; if Naruto really tried to hurt him now, as he was right _now_---there wouldn't be too much he could do about it, besides possibly watch and be aware.  

Naruto settled, then spoke quietly into the dark, "I need you to relax a little more, it's still too hard."

With one warm finger on his temple and another on the hollow in front of his ear, Gaara closed his eyes…breathed in…waited…remembered Naruto talking about his plans, explaining…kicking him in the ankle…watching him drink…smiling…taking off his jacket…knowing…trusting…

_--It was dark, and cold sharp bits stuck out from the oddest places, but he could feel one spot where it was getting softer, smoother, thinner—and very gently he got close to it, put himself near it, **in it**…and finally through it.  He let the rest of himself expand like a cloud inside, looked around, then engulfed something that looked not unlike a dormant fireball.  He let himself settle, and then watched to see if anything would happen next…--_

Completely absorbed, Naruto didn't hear Gaara inhale deeply in relief, alone yet not alone finally in his own mind.  

Naruto and the Tanuki demon were still in there, but they weren't _in_ him, merely sharing space.  It was like being in a small crowded quiet room with no one looking at you.  All Gaara was really aware of, was the softness beneath him, the coolness above him, the warmth beside him, the flaxen still presence so intimately inside him, and the solitude in his mind.

Gaara had never ever considered any place or time _safe_.  There was always danger everywhere, but some places and times were _safer_ than others.  And as he silently admitted with every night he came to Naruto's bed for him and his bloodthirsty demon fox to work their magic in his head over and over again, this was the safest place of all.

Naruto lay still as he watched his redheaded companion relax and dream the rare dream.  Gaara could sleep _real_ normal sleep like this safely, this was the _only_ way Gaara could sleep safely, without his control being torn away from him while he slept, without his soul being attacked and devoured.  

Of course, it meant Naruto had to stay awake the whole time Gaara slept, which could last for days and days, forgoing food, hygiene, even work for the rare luxury of safe normal sleep, instead of the trick sleep he used in its place.  

Naruto had originally asked Gaara to enter his mind for practice—It was a valuable skill that could only be used clumsily.  Nine Tails had never needed or thought to perfect it or explore it, and Naruto had very little idea of what he was doing.  To perfect it, he needed a willing subject to experiment on.  And after much persuasion, flattery, promises, and even _more_ flattery and a little threats, Gaara had finally allowed Naruto very very _limited_ access to his mind, for only one hour and then never again.  

It was quick; it was simple.  Basically Naruto was only trying to figure out if _this_ is where the images came in or was _that_ the section that felt fear.  Gaara wouldn't let him do anything, just look and move around in a very tightly secured and guarded space.

But later, much later, after he had seen what Naruto could do, that he could actually make people hallucinate and feel things and could actually make them smell and _touch_ them…he saw that Naruto could lock people inside their minds, shove them into a coma.  He could make them tell him anything, take little bits of their memories from their minds, make them forget something, he could tell them something and they wouldn't just believe it they would _know_ it…

Naruto could do nearly anything.

But it was hard, long, and very, very delicate work.  Naruto first had to get to know the person, the mind, had to watch them day and night and talk to them and deal with them and learn about their families and who they trusted and who they hated and what they liked and who they loved and a million other things about them before he could really get into their heads psychically, before he could do anything at all.  He had to know them, to really _understand_ them, had to get to like them and love them a little before he could do anything.

It was far too easy to make people go crazy, to break the fragile walls that separated past from present and skills for driving the car from dreaming about bugs just because Naruto didn't _see_ them.  Didn't know they were there.  All he had to do was invade a mind, feel for the slight energy pulse, the chakra the mind emitted while it moved and imitate his own to match the other's and then just slip _into_ the energy pulse…into the mind…into everything and then just send a surge of his own power.  And everything went boom.  

And the emotional backwash of blood stricken terror and fear and shock and horror was enough to keep him sick and blind for days, made Nine Tails tremor and go silent.  Wrenching himself out hurt.  Hurting someone else inside them hurt him too.  He didn't do it too much.

And so the second time Naruto had asked Gaara, to please let him just look around in his mind once more, just to let him look at something specific that wouldn't even _take_ an hour, it would be super quick, for just a bit because it was real important so would he _please_…

And Gaara had agreed.  Readily.  And later asked Naruto more about his mind tricks.  And got very vague and short answers.  And had later asked to be shown something.  Had asked to experience something.  And had discovered that he could actually sleep.

He kept coming back.

Regularly.  No more than once a week, but at least once a month.  He kept on coming back.

Naruto sighed, then relaxed.  He'd have to cut this nap short for Sasuke's sake.  

Gaara didn't move at all.

***

Sakura pulled the tie from her hair and placed it on the dresser while she pulled her fingers through her hair, absently picking her scrunchie back up and tying her pale pink hair up again as she walked to the desk.

Sakura's room was everything she had been expecting.  It was medium size with European styling: A four poster bed with tasseled canopy, thick Persian rugs thrown over the stone floor, a fireplace near the foot of the bed, and tall white French windows with heavy brocade curtains.  Velvet, silk, brocade, red, and a lot of gold tassel and embroidery seemed to dominate everything.  It was gaudy and loud and tasteless and obnoxious and everything impractical.  

She had completely blanched and near fainted when she saw it.  Inner Sakura had loved it.

In the same way people love small ugly rat-like dogs with x's and z's in their names and neon pink glossy figurines of bears in tutus, the room attracted her with its sheer unique gaudiness.  Everything would later get on her nerves, she knew, but now it was just—loud in a very still place.

She'd seen people, managed to talk to some of them, but they all seemed a little shy and nervous around her, and something about them…wasn't quite right.  It was tricky to put her finger on, but the way they moved, the way they talked like a stutter or whisper, and something about their eyes too old or too bright.  

The only clear abnormality that she had really identified was one girl who swept had mismatched eyes, blue and green which often looked in different directions, and that was hardly note-worthy.  She was very polite, stuttered a little, and reminded Sakura ultimately of Hinata.  

She was the only one Sakura had actually managed to talk to, mostly because the poor girl stuttered so hard she couldn't say good-bye quickly enough; long enough for Sakura to get a promise to be shown the gardens later and the girl's name: Anzu*.  

By wandering down the solid stone dark corridors as conspicuously as she could, she found there was limited space for her to be in, otherwise men playing cards with scars on their arms and rough impolite accents in their voices would politely lead her back.  

Sasuke was her sole constant and interaction in the mornings, when they planned to meet outside and talk.  

She'd been slightly aghast with the demands—" _How_ much?!"--, the 'services' offered—"You're not _serious_?  Is that possible?"--, yet had been slightly relieved.  For them to be in such desperate need of food and supplies meant that the Demon King had pushed his forces to the limit, and if he didn't pay up very quickly he'd have a revolt on his hands he couldn't control.  

His kingdom would dissolve, and the darkness would take back it's own.  

And everything would…Maybe everything _could_ go back to normal again.  Maybe.  Just maybe.

It had taken some prodding and evasive and direct action before Sasuke informed her that the name of the Demon King…was private.  As was his identity.  Sakura hadn't accepted this fact neatly.

"The answer is no."

"No one's going to deal with a man they don't know!  That's not how things work, Sasuke!  Did he even tell _you_?"

"_They_ don't have a _choice_…We're dealing.  They're not, they don't matter."

"But you _do_ know his name right?"  //_Because if something goes wrong, you're going to be the only contact we have to him.//_  

Sasuke hesitated, then answered.  "Yeah.  I do.  He's not someone we should trust.  He's more complicated than he lets on, but not as…Stable, I think, rational as earlier believed.  Don't trust anyone here, but I doubt we'll be hurt."

A sane, logical man was far more dangerous with a sword than an insane one, Sakura knew.  At least the crazy man might cut off his own fingers, but the sane man wouldn't give you time to blink.

"You don't think it's a trap?  He might try to kill us, or take us hostage if things don't go well."  

This was a definite problem that had been bothering her.  The Stone Country landscape was neurotically simple—It was bare mountains in every direction, but it would be difficult for someone not familiar with the landscape to move out quickly.  The home team had the advantage of terrain.  The Demon King's castle wasn't built _on_ a mountain cliff, it was built _in_ the cliff, using the living rock as a foundation and then adding the outposts and doors.  As it was, they were both standing on an ancient upswept cliff top that had been roughly converted into a terrace just by adding a knee-high railing.

Who knew how many tunnels and secret pathways were in the mountains that connected directly to the castle?  She couldn't openly explore very far, so it would take time before she knew.

Her memory of the building's entrance was shaky, since she'd only gone through once and wasn't allowed to revisit; if she had to escape she could break through the window and run, but what could Sasuke do?

"He might…but I doubt it.  He's not as powerful as we thought.  I don't think he's the real force behind everything, I think he's just a front man."

"How can you be so sure?  Have you tried," Sakura paused, and thought of a good way to word it.  Sasuke seemed confident of their privacy, but she wasn't.  "Tried really looking at him?"  _//With the Sharingan, for whatever it'll tell you?//_

Sasuke had looked directly into her eyes, making sure she knew his answer.

"No," he lied.  "Everything's been rushed, but I don't think it's going to be that simple.  Everything's still at the beginning stage.  We have time."

The wind whipped through her hair briskly; it was whisperingly thunderous, and she could barely hear Sasuke's answers even though they were standing so close together, the area empty of people and overhangs.  She still felt they were being watched.  It was too empty.  It was conspicuously, obnoxiously empty.

Sasuke had his arms crossed as he stared out over nothing.  Finally, Sakura spoke her mind.

"I don't like it.  There's too much mystery, too much we don't know…This feels funny.  Almost like a trap…But what are they waiting for?  And why bother with us?"

She expected Sasuke to shrug her off; after all this time, he still did that occasionally.  And it seemed like he felt pretty secure here, somehow, so secure it almost made her feel she was being needlessly paranoid.  

So it surprised her when he said, "I know."

She stole a glance at him, to see his eyes were actually a little bit organic, and troubled.  Things were real bad, when Sasuke was troubled and showed it.  This time he broke the silence.

"How goes it?"

"Pretty good, kind of slow.  Not too many, just minimal maintenance and guards to keep me in line."

"They've hurt you?"

"No," Sakura said quickly, alarmed at his tone, "No they just---watch me.  And nod at everything I say.  They haven't touched me."

Sasuke visibly settled down, and took his eyes off her.  Sakura continued quietly.

"They're few, nervous, and very quiet.  They think I'm a spy."

"Uniforms?"  
  


"No, plainclothes, all around.  No noticeable badges, no apparent rank, but there's some type of order.  They'd have to know each other by face, by name, to keep spies from getting in.  I think I've made a friend.  They leave me alone all day."

_//They don't physically watch me.  They assume I can only get out the conventional way, or I can't sneak around.  Infiltrating is not a problem.  They don't know what I can do, and if they do then they don't know all of it.//_

Sakura had only packed long dresses and skirts with dress shoes with raised heels to back that image up.  It was very hard to run or crawl around wearing a skirt that didn't let you move around too much, and everyone who saw her knew that.  The shoes made tapping noises when she walked, so anyone watching her wouldn't have to work very hard.

Sasuke nodded.  

"All right.  I'll meet you here tomorrow."

At her desk, Sakura put everything into writing.  

There was a code, but it didn't do with writing backwards or passwords.  That sort of thing could be learned after a while, and mimicked.  There were code words in the writing, but that was only there because it was _expected_.  Without it, people would begin to look for the other, _real_ keys.

There were only three actual checks on the messages.  There was her handwriting, which was unique to her and very difficult to mimic absolutely; that would take months without a _real_ professional**.  And twined in her fingers was a strand of hair she had picked up earlier that would go inside the envelope itself; that wasn't difficult to get, but it was a very small detail.  

The third check was the ink itself, chemically created in Konoha that would react like ordinary ink to infrared, ultraviolet, metal detectors and jutsu, but if chemically tested would reveal that there was a small, very small trace of a chemical that  didn't need to be in the ink at all.  It didn't _affect_ the ink in any way, but if the ink were tested it would show that it had a harmless, unnecessary rider in it.

And the Hokage had decided that if the scrutiny got anymore thorough, then there wasn't any point in trusting the mail anyway.

Clicking her pen, Sakura began to write.

***

A/N:

*Got the name from the Yugi Oh! Manga, but the character isn't based on Anzu.  I just liked way the name sounded; I think it's pretty.  I like names that start with A.

**I read a story once where this guy really goes in depth about how you can tell a guy's a serial killer just by looking at their handwriting.  There was a lot of facts, so it made me a believer that it is indeed tough work.  Also, I cannot forge a signature to save my life.  I cannot do it.  No idiot, anywhere, is that dumb or blind.

For the people who want to see Iruka and Naruto as buddies again…I'll see what I can do.  I can't promise too much because I actually hadn't planned on that happening, but I'll see what I can do.  

How was Sakura?  In character?  It's not often I give girls a big role in my fanfics, hence concern.

I think I like the girls in _Naruto_; I tend to hate women in anime because they're all the standard cutesy-bitchy model, cutesy-helpless, or cutesy-nice model.  I get tired of that.  I really admire the creation of Hinata because she's neither, and Kagome from _Inuyasha_ as well.  

For the next chapter: Blood!  Yay!    :D


	4. I: History

A/N:  Blood!  As promised.  Yay!  This chapter is a fill-er, fill-er, fill~~er!!!   What's plot Bobby-san?  Yay!   Plots are for other people.  0_0  

Yagga! 

I've got re~views, I've got re~views…Yay yay yay!  Everybody do the conga!  Cha-cha, cha-cha, cha-choobie-doobie-da!

…This chappie took a while getting posted because some of it got deleted without me noticing, and it took me forever to build up the nerve to write it again.  But I have.  I did.  Arck!  So I say!

…did I EVER put in a disclaimer?  I don't remember.  Oh well…not mine.  

Standard Disclaimer Applies: At All Times

Attraction 

By gelfling

gelfling8604@yahoo.com

_//thoughts//_

_:: invading thoughts::_

***

He who is afraid of a thing gives it power over him.

--Moorish Proverbs 

Women are by nature weak-willed.  However I have found that when they are strong, they are unpredictable.  

--Marius _seriously_ grievously paraphrased, The Vampire Lestat, Ann Rice

  
"This is how much pure crack cocaine you would need to enjoy the movie."  
--MST3K, 

***

Naruto had learned early on through painful trial and error that the hardest thing about opening someone's head up was shutting them back down again.  It was a constant susurrus of petty and selfish waves of people who had no idea that for once their prayers and thoughts were being heard and judged, but not by God, or select deity of their choice, but by a shrieking demon boy with one apocalyptic migraine.  

Naruto had spent a productive week screaming at everything whenever anyone came within a mile of him of felt something too loudly.

In this area Nine Tails was a superb help.  It was through his gradual awareness of Nine Tails and interaction with that were the first step in the telepathic field.  With only the fox to speak to him, to drown out the voices with her voice or stony silences of raving sound-eating hunger, Naruto finally found some relief.

He discovered the next problem was knowing what to focus on, and what _not_ to focus on.  He had to decide what was really worth listening to, and when to just tell everyone to shut up and holing up in his room to watch _Debbie Does Tokyo_ again and a huge package of pocky and loose dirty clothes.

Because he hadn't solved that problem, he didn't feel it when Sakura was killed.

***

Sand village, like the others, had been an edge because of the rumors.  They were officially neither believing nor disbelieving the story of the Stone village's destruction but chose to be on guard, despite the huge amount of distance between the two villages.

Kazekage-sama was under protection at all times, the borders constantly patrolled at night as well as day.  Beyond that, there was little more they could do to protect themselves until the enemy chose to show itself.

***

Temari had looked up and felt her heart stop.

The sand was still beneath her bruised knees and bleeding hands, and the air around her was empty and clear, the stranger's hand still tight on her shoulder, reassuring her and keeping her still.  The allusion to security only terrified her more.

The tunneling funneling cyclone of filthy sand reached high up, miles high and higher above her head, going swirling and twisting excruciatingly at speeds where a cup of water itself would drive right through the body and break every bone and tear through every organ and artery it was all going so fast and so high…

Motion at her side caught her eye, and she gasped when she saw the sand moving like water or a multitude of worms writhing towards the cyclone, feeding it to make it—even bigger than it was now.  

Bigger than it was…bigger than it already was…

It had come suddenly, without pause or warning or sign.  Rods of sand several feet thick had crashed through the outer wall, through the housing, through rock and underground and weaseling through locks and metal grating.  

It was a giant sea creature, a giant octopus, with tentacles made of sand stabbing and sweeping, the element of sand had refused to obey any commands, any jutsu; no amount of chakra could make it move or leave or defend.  It refused everyone, everything, powered by a force so strong that attacks didn't affect it.  

It killed many, perhaps had even killed them all, enclosing the whole village in a globe again made of sand, sealing out the outside world and blotting out the sun, leaving the people in darkness only.  It killed more, indiscriminately, recklessly, without pause.

The desert had come alive.  The desert had a life of its own.  And the desert was _mad_.

Dunes rose and surged like ocean waves, like currents in a storm, the entire terrestrial landscape coming alive and converging together with fanatic anger and only the small space she and the stranger stood—kneeled—on was a safe island excepted from the tsunami.

The stranger.

"_This is you doing it!  This is you_!"

His eyes were still on the cyclone.  He didn't appear to have heard her.

"_Answer me_!  This is you, isn't it!  Stop it, _you've got to stop it_!"

His eyes drifted to her, and she felt her body forcibly relax itself.  He shook his head that no, it wasn't him, a strange, nearly amused, look on his face and playing on his eyes.  She didn't believe him.  She didn't _dare_ touch him.

Then came the scream.

A dull vibration like a guitar string started down low on the bottom of her spine, then climbed atrociously fast up the scales to a triumphant terrified wail that made her veins combust and crawl and cower inside her muscles until she clutched and clawed at her ears and hair and opened her mouth and screamed and screamed and screamed until the film and mucus lining her throat caught fire from the friction of her voice.

It was coming from inside the cyclone.  _It was coming from **inside** the cyclone._  

She would always remember that. 

Naruto made her pass out before she hurt herself further, before he turned his eyes back to the cyclone and his attention to Gaara.

Unstable.  That was how the old frog, Gamabunta, had described Gaara, and he would have felt very justified to see him right now.

The sand was cut in canyons, rising like sharks and snakes and curling and thrusting and bunching and attacking without purpose or guide so simply thrashed and thrashed and thrashed until it was out of energy.  This was Gaara.  This was what was going on inside Gaara's head.

The sand began to drift and slither under Naruto's feet, around him, and Temari was still shaking and sweating badly.  He got down on one knee; pulled Kankuro's already limp and bruised body closer, and pulled Temari's shaking body closer too.  Then he pressed two fingers into the sand, which stilled.

Gaara needed someone to hate, someone to be hated by.  He'd already taken it for granted that hate was as close to love as he'd ever get; it was his motivation for existing, for getting stronger.  

And now, just now, just barely now already fading into the past, already fading into intangible, fickle memory—was his crowning achievement.  It was his goal, his big Point, what he strived for and dreamed of.  

He was free.  

He was free of them, _all of them_, down to the last selfish sniveling brat and smelly decrepit bastard he was finally free of their looks and voices and god-awful _stench_!  And.  And his father.  And his father was _dead_.  He had killed him.  On his _knees_—he had killed his father on his knees, nearly begging him, his son, his lost forgotten double-damned son, with his eyes to stop.  To stop the blood and stop the death.  To stop himself.

His—his father's blood.  His blood.  His blood was all over his hands.  It was all over his _face_.  

He wanted to laugh.  He could feel it surging inside him, surging up, battering on the walls looking for a way out while outside his eyelids the living beating sand was a mirror for how he felt and thrashed and thrashed and thrashed…

He didn't laugh.  He wouldn't—laugh.

It was something the Tanuki would have done.  It was something the Tanuki wanted to do.  But he was still Gaara.  He was _still_ him.  And he'd fight to the last…

He threw his head back and screamed.

Screamed for the joy he felt.

Screamed in victory, for his strength, his perfection.

Screamed for his freedom.

Screamed for himself.

Screamed for Gaara.

Screamed for the loneliness eating him in a gentle mist, dark and hellish.

Screamed for all the things he never said.  

Screamed for all the words he longed to hear.

Screamed for the gentle touch he would die for.

Screamed for himself.

Screamed for Gaara.

His scream went high.  And then it ended.  

He was dully aware of an explosion, combustion, an absence of sound and motion as everything just went far away, anywhere but where he was, and the feeling of gravity pulling him back down from somewhere up high.  He was aware of swaying on his feet, of his mind feeling shaken, a burned feel on his throat like fire, and he felt very drained, and very still.  

Eyes were on him.

He turned to face Naruto, who was standing up from being crouched over people, and was looking back at him.

He felt tired, and vulnerable, and could sense an impending doom on the back of his neck.  And yet this—guy, with a boyish face and raggedy blond hair was just looking at him, and he didn't seem afraid.  Not afraid of him, not afraid around him.  He just—looked so young.  

And why…?  How did he survive?  He hadn't missed.  So what…?

The man started stiffly, and began to slowly walk towards him, daring to take his eyes off him briefly to watch his step, arms held out a little for balance.  There were three stripes on his face, like scratches, and Gaara knew he knew him.  He couldn't remember his name, he could barely remember his own, but he knew him and didn't feel immediate danger.

The man was closer to him, only a few feet away, and he slowed and stopped, his eyes on his.  

He was never how certain how long they stood there, Gaara breathing hard and excess energy still swirling and darting wearily around him in tatters, Naruto looking at him.  He didn't feel he was being judged.  He wouldn't be able to bear that now, wouldn't have tolerated it at all for anything and nothing.  He didn't see any emotion in his eyes, besides a cautious interest.  

//_Good.  Should be afraid.  I am…the demon.  I can kill anything…//_

He was never certain when or how he fell, stumbled, except his strength must've finally worn out and he had toppled forward to die of exhaustion but Naruto had caught him before he fell.

He had killed his father.  He had killed his village.  He had killed his past.  He had no one to hate now.  He needed someone to hate, someone to hate and be hated by more than he needed air to breathe or light to see.  He had killed that.  He had ended that.  The abyss to hell and darkness opened it's jaws before him and—

Naruto had caught him before he fell.

***

Naruto leaned back from his spot on the bed, and was impatiently waiting for Sakura to stop scribbling.  

After eternity had passed and Naruto's brain had gone into slushy-mode, she finally clicked her pen shut and folded and placed the letter into the envelope.  She stood up and stretched, Naruto's brain clicked back to life, and took her hair out the tie, shaking it around her shoulders to lie flat on her back.

Yay!  Let the show begin!

Putting her other stuff away, she reached under her back to do something complicated to her dress, which she shrugged off, standing before Naruto's eyes in only her bra, panties, and bare skin.  Naruto smiled widely, his eyes danced and wandered everywhere, and rested his chin in his folded hands.  Life was good.  Life was very _good_.

Sakura took off her bra.

His eyes devoured curves that looked firm and white—untouched and fresh, pert pale nipples dotting the center artistically.  Sweet, very sweet…

Naruto blinked once, frowned, and leaned forward to take a closer look at her.   Muscles were toned on her thighs and calves, stomach and butt toned and rock solid, and her biceps also showed signs of strength.  Naruto leaned back, while Sakura bent over to dig for her nightgown, giving him an excellent view of her butt.

A look passed over Naruto's face, before he stood up and turned away curtly.

It was really all to be expected, but for some reason it still surprised him.  It shouldn't have.  It did.

Sakura…had grown up.  Sakura was a woman—a real ninja—now, with breasts you could barely hold in one hand and muscles that could really punch.  Sakura wasn't a little girl anymore, still grieving that her boobs were too small and that Sasuke-kun wouldn't look at her the right way or talk to her.  

Sasuke had grown up too, but Sasuke had always _been_ grown up, even back when he was only twelve.  That was hardly a shocker.  Sasuke had acted like he was thirty when he was twelve, and he acted even older, even colder, now.  

It had taken a good full use of Naruto's concentration and power just to stimulate Sasuke's hormones enough to have sex, more than it should have.  And _then_ he had to pass the whole thing off as a wet _dream_, just a wet dream.  That wasn't _close_ to what he had originally in mind, that was barely enough to leave an impression in Sasuke's mind, nowhere _near_ enough to break him.  All it did was through him off a little, but it'd never break him.

Sasuke was a cool customer.  

No—Sasuke was a cool bastard, period.

…but Sakura…

Naruto wasn't surprised Sakura had given up on her crush; Sasuke had a real talent for pushing people away, pushing any type of warmth away.  It was apart of what he was, it was a fundamental Sasuke-trait.  After a while, everyone gave up on trying to warm up people like that.  

Still…Sakura was a surprise.  He knew she would grow up; hell, everyone did, it wasn't a real surprise or anything.  But somewhere in his mind, she was still locked up as the little twelve-year-old girl in the red Chinese style dress, popular and insecure and very beautiful.  Somehow, perhaps…he'd been expecting her to show up—not the same age, but the same body, the same mind.  And she hadn't.  She couldn't.

Naruto flopped on his bed and pulled the pillow over his eyes.

Time had passed.  Things had changed.  They couldn't turn back now.

…

_He_ had changed.  He couldn't turn back now.

Naruto stayed up for the better part of the night splayed on his bed with the pillow over his head, still picturing adult Sakura nearly naked in her bedroom and wondering where the hell the little girl, his childhood love, had gone.  

He'd been perversely thrilled to see her so mature when she'd walked through his door, head high and seductively tired and worn in a very Goth way, beautiful even soaked the mud and rain, and now that she was naked…Well, she was an adult naked woman.  Which was what he wanted.  What he had been hoping for and jerked off in the shower over, picturing her body and her sweet smooth curves and now that he had her, completely within reach...

He couldn't stand to look at her naked.

Gaara didn't come again that night. 

***

It surprised Naruto that Nine Tails the damned fox demon from hell of legend and lore and nightmares was female.  He'd always assumed it was male like he was, as everyone else had assumed.  It was just hard to picture a female as a cold brutal killer.  It didn't quite _work_.

Surprisingly, Naruto had left Konohagakure because of a mid-summer afternoon of eating ice cream on a bench with Sakura a little distance away, reading a book.  Sasuke was nowhere in sight, probably out training somewhere.  

Naruto was watching a family, perhaps two families, playing soccer on the park field from his spot on the bench, eating ice cream.  And Naruto was thinking, hard.  And contrary to popular belief, thinking hard is not a beneficial pastime.  Eating ice cream, training to be Hokage, chasing after Sakura, trying to beat up Sasuke and thinking up new ways to call Kakashi-sensei perverted was a beneficial pastime.  Thinking hard is not.

Because it led a person down unknown paths.  And that does something to a person.

His dreams had been another problem, his dreams that had been puzzling him for the last few months.  Naruto was past the age where most boys start having the really _strong_ wet dreams, the ones that endure even the really cold shower and brisk run around the village and when even _looking_ at a girl was sometimes enough to cause a massive nosebleed and fainting spell.  

However Naruto had always been a bit slow in the developmental progress, had always been a bit shorter and weaker than others, and it was only through really _intense_ training and devotion to progress and his hidden reserves of chakra that he was able to equal and rival the other boys of his age.

His wet dreams were different from what he had heard.  Other boys talked or whispered rudely of supermodels or really cute girls with short flappy skirts and no tops suddenly appearing in their room on their bed or lounging coyly on a desk.  After that, the details became more intimate and harder to learn, but all dreams definitely contained girls or women.  Naruto's dreams usually didn't contain women.  

Naruto's wet dreams usually contained trees.

He dreamed of trees tall and slim and pale beige, felt the moist green moss beneath him, and tasted the tang of tin in the air.  Colors were sharper in his dream, smells were clearer.  Objects in his dream seemed more real than the objects in the real world.  He dreamed of running through the trees, much faster than what he could run then, running so fast it was nearly like flying and he didn't feel any jolting or rough bouncing motion at all.  It was like he was flying, flying and dashing through the trees.  

He always ran to a lake, a lake that was calm and flat, and reflected the light of the sun and the shadows of the trees like an organic mirror.  He'd skim over to the lake's edge, look into it, and the weird thing was that he could _inside_ the lake to the bottom of it as well as see the trees reflected it on it _at the same time_.  It was strange, but he could never say why.

He looked at himself in the lake, but the problem was that he could never find his reflection.  He could never find himself.  Thinking the lake had somehow lost his reflection, or was hiding him from himself, Naruto would walk into the lake without getting wet, because he was looking for himself and the lake obviously had it.

Then he smelled blood.  

He was _swamped_ with blood, coming from every conceivable direction, touching every part of his body and stinging his eyes and getting into his mouth and up his nose and even flooding into his ears.  The strange thing in his strange dream was that the blood didn't frighten him, or even make him sick or uncomfortable.  He smiled at it.  He reveled in it, felt warm and hard and powerful, and then wondered why he was doing it.

And then he found the man.

The man was old, older than he was, perhaps in his twenties or thirties, and a good deal taller than Naruto was, and he was standing in front of Naruto and looking down at him.

He knew that face, that hair and those eyes.  He didn't know why such an intense and endless emotion of dark bleeding hatred was attached to it, on seeing this man why there was such hatred around him, but he did recognize that face, because he looked at it every morning in the mirror.

Then he would always wake up, gasping, breathless, as electrifying waves of static white pleasure ran up and down his nervous system, the sheets blindingly hot and soaked with sweat, and desperately needing the bathroom, more specifically the shower.

Now Naruto was sitting on a bench in the sun, warm, comfortable, and with every reason to be at peace with an ice cream cone melting in his hand.  He was quietly doing an intense inventory of his life.  He was thinking entirely too hard.  

He could think of a million and one optimistic clichés to cheer himself up with, but in the solitude of his own mind, for once not on display and not abandoned, just quietly forgotten, all his cheerful bravado and lies fell very flat.  

He couldn't lie to himself with an ice cream cone in his hand, not in the park in the sunshine.  It didn't work.  He couldn't even feel childishly sorry for himself, because life wasn't bad.  He was in a warm bench eating ice cream and Sakura was nearby, and Sasuke was off somewhere doing ninja things not bothering him.

Life wasn't bad, life wasn't good, it was just—life.  And for the first time ever, Naruto had to look it in the face.  Melted sugar-soaked dairy product dribbled down his hand.

He got up and threw his ice cream cone in the trash, and walked off to work out.  

Nine Tails stirred.

***

Naruto went home with the sensations from the park—the warmth of the sun, faded laughter, taste of ice cream—filed in his mind and captured in his pocket.  

He dreamed again that night, not of the trees or lake or of running on the grass, but he was aware of speed, of motion.  He was blinded and stunned by brilliant flame, intense heat roaring up from the naked pads of his feet.  He could smell blood, drowning in it so much that he was choking on it through his nose, coating his throat was the blood of…somebody else.  

Pain.  Violence.  Anger.  Death.

_Anger._

_No._

_Fire._

_…_

_NO!!_

He felt them all, saw them, tasted them all so strong he nearly forgot who and what he was, he was swamped with them, and physically struck with them.  He was trying to throw up, but his body didn't want to cooperate, couldn't spare the energy to vomit because it was using it all in remembering who he was, trying frantically to remember _what_ he was.  He was human.  He was human!  He was burning up.  There was so much _blood_.

He saw her.

She was beautiful.

Crimson eyes burned him.

It was very still.

Pacing, staring, waiting and watching wanting to act but sealed up, imprisoned in a place without bars or structure, in something he couldn't see or touch but knew instinctively was there.  He recognized her, but she had already known it was him beyond a sliver of a doubt.  She would recognize him _anywhere_.  

He knew about her; since he was twelve he had known about her, but she had known about him longer, knew infinitely more about him than he could _ever_ hope to know about her, never feel or see her completely save these few whispers and catches of what she was.  Of what she had been.

He was intimidated.  He was stunned.  He was completely humbled.  He was on his knees before her, terrified through and through, while she stood with nonchalant arrogant poise, centered and confident, just silently watching him.

And though he wouldn't recognize for some time, he was desperately irrevocably in love with her.  With her power and bloodlust.  Her disregard for everything.  Her confidence in herself.  With her place in the world.  Her integration with her surroundings.  Her freedom.  Her captivity.  She was so damn _beautiful_…words didn't even begin to describe.

She could kill him in an instant.  She could kill _anyone_ in an instant, even Kakashi-sensei, Jiraiya-sennin and Hokage-sama.  She could kill anybody.  She was that powerful.  She was that cruel.

It was too hot…It was too damn _hot_!

Naruto had been dragged out of bed roughly, and thrown out the window.  Someone below had caught him, hiccupping and choking, and dragged him some distance away to lay him on the street and leave him there, next to others.

His apartment building was on fire.  It was orange and red, blisteringly hot.  The smoke billowed into the night sky.  It seemed strongest at the bottom floor, and something exploded inside.  Bucket chains had already been formed, a huge crowd was milling around.  It was steadily being controlled.  

It was caused when by a loose gas leak underground that had suddenly exploded and caught flame.  

Naruto's body was still warm.  His body was still so _warm_.  

Cringing, he put a hand at his temples.

***

"I had a dream."

Gaara chose to be open at the oddest times.

"I dreamed that I was in a room made of wood with a—strange window, that had counter on the sill, and you were keeping a pet water lizard there, in an aquarium.  You forgot to feed it, so I started giving it bologna, and it ate it.  Then a cat came in, and it got jealous and was going to eat the lizard, so I gave it some bologna too.  And then I killed the lizard and the cat, and I ate them both."

Naruto blinked, and was very carefully keeping a flat look on his face, which was a dead give-away in itself.  After days of absolute abstinence, of quarantine, Gaara had returned again for a nap.   This one had only lasted six hours, which was a little unusual.  Gaara could sleep for _days_.

Naruto didn't say so out loud, but he had the feeling Gaara was extremely adverse to Sasuke and Sakura being there.  Gaara didn't seem to notice too much, he was busy staring up.  

Finally he glanced at Naruto's face, and said in his normal cold voice, "You can take your hands off now.  Your sex toy is probably waiting for you."

***

Naruto had remained in the Konoha village for a little longer after the fire.

Against his better judgment, he hadn't told anyone about the fox, about Nine Tails, or his dreams.  He sometimes got some killer migraines, but they never lasted too long to bring up suspicion, even from Naruto.  He had wanted to tell Iruka…But it felt like a betrayal, somehow somewhere.  Iruka's parents had been killed by the fox demon; he resented it with a passion.  He couldn't tell him, and he wouldn't tell anyone else.

Kakashi had noticed a slight distraction in his behavior, and accurately put it down to growing problems.  He missed the significance of it.

There was one last night of dreaming before Naruto rapidly put in his departure papers to village administration the morning after.  He didn't wait for approval, but left the village at noon without a word.

He wandered without real purpose or destination, because where he going wasn't really all that important.  What _was_ important was that he put as much distance between where he was and where he was coming from as possible, and as quickly as his feet and mouth could carry him.  

It was possible that hunter-nins would chase him, and they would kill him if they caught him.  In truth Naruto was more afraid about Iruka-sensei or Kakashi-sensei than he was of the hunter-nins.  They would only try to kill him.  His teachers would want to talk to him.

He learned to stay away from cities where people talked too loud and smelled too strongly, badly, and looked at him the wrong way.  He avoided the forests like a plague, wouldn't step foot in them on pain of death.  He wound up in a little fishing town in the north, close to the ocean and far away from people and trees a few weeks later.

He barely slept anymore, didn't dare fall asleep unless he was completely drugged and drunk out of his mind.  He drank like there was no tomorrow, desperately hoping there wouldn't be, and tried drugs he had never heard of in ways he hadn't thought possible.  He didn't do much of anything now except scrabble for money for alcohol, or stole it.  

She came to him again.

She was still beautiful, still detached from the filth of his world and mind, from all the petty problems he dirtied himself with.  He wasn't madly in love with her anymore.  He was terrified of her.  

It was in her strength, her age, her stance…she belonged here.  She belonged in this world, it belonged to her, he could feel it in his blood, and he was standing in her way, standing in her place.  She could kill him in an instant.  It might kill her too, but it might set her free.  She was willing to dare it, Naruto knew.  

He didn't have a leg to stand on.  

She smelled of blood.  It wasn't on her; her fur was a pale lush blond, silky and alive, but she still smelled of blood.  It was in the way she looked at him, the way she shifted, the way the ground reeked of blood where her feet touched the ground.  The worst part was that he liked it.

This time she spoke to him.

Dressed in rags and in somebody else's clothing, unwashed and smelly in an alley of a town he didn't know and didn't know anyone in, clutching the neck of the bottle like a lifeline; Naruto closed his eyes and cried hard.  

***

A/N:  I've got—not one—but TWO lemons written!  Well…one and half, anyway. Yay!  No idea where I'm gonna post them though…

WHERE DO YOU POST LEMONS FOR NARUTO!!!

…mediaminer and fandomination don't _have_ a Naruto section, and I'm leery of sticking it in the misc section…if I stick it in here, will anyone yell?  Hope not…People still post lemons, even with the censorship and anti-lemon brigade.  What did everyone think about the Gaara-destroy section?  There's going to be one similar to it posted soon, once I get other things written up.

Angsty.  Rather angsty, this chapter….kind of…

Be warned!  Timing!  Timing!  This isn't a real story!  It's just stuff stuck together!  I really don't _want_ to write the next part, because I don't remember how it went!  I _know_ what happened, but I don't remember how it _went_!

…I never wrote it _do~own_…I don't know why.  What was I on, you ask?  I don't know…it couldn't have been healthy, any way you look at it.  Ergh.  

…I'm seriously thinking about just scraping the next chapter completely and jumping right on ahead…

…Sasuke's a bitch.  I can't get inside his head.  Into Naruto's head, into Gaara's head: Not big problems.  I actually _like_ Gaara's head, it feels like home, I even dreamed his dream (you have to see when he's chibi, I just want to cuddle and cuddle him.  He's _sooo~~~~~oooo_ CUTE!).

Into Sasuke's head: Bitch!  Hard!  Doesn't _flex_!  Bad boy!  No biscuit!


	5. I: It Could Get Worse

A/N: I was reading Fight Club.  And reading Weiss Kruz fanfiction.  Hence, writing and subject change.  I'll get to the point eventually.

Warning:  Plot devices.  _Ghastly_ plot devices.  Ergh.  It happens.  Oh, and shonen ai.  And blood.  Dire fight scenes.  

Standard Disclaimer Applies: At All Times

Attraction 

By gelfling

gelfling8604@yahoo.com

_//thoughts//_

_:: invading thoughts::_

***

When the sun is gone I see you

Beautiful and haunting but cold

Like the blade of a knife, so sharp and so sweet

Nobody knows your heart

--Lyrics from _Princess Mononoke_

You would kill me for gold_,_ then, Dragon-Slayer?

--Draco (Sean Connery), _Dragon Heart_

Never trust anyone who calls themselves Demon.

--Vlad, _Jhereg_, Steven Burst 

***

Picture a pin, a normal metallic sewing pin with perhaps a red plastic knob on one end and the sharp tip on the other.  Then picture a very tall rock, the size of a house and four times taller, with lots of nooks and crannies in it.  Picture the pin falling over and down the rock, and hear in your ears the sound it makes.

_Click…click clink…clickety…_

What are they doing here?  

They don't belong here.

You're not a normal child.

They are.  

They shouldn't _be_ here.

_Clap click…ting click…clickety click…_

Stay away from them.  

They're not to be hurt.

They're under _my_ protection.

I care about them, and you'll never know how.

_…Ming…click clack…click…_

***

Sasuke stepped into his assigned room, shut and locked the door with a 'click'.  Then he walked absently, slowly, to the middle of the room, and simply stood there for several minutes.  It was obvious, by simply looking at him, that he had a lot on his mind.  He sat down on the foot of the bed blankly, careful upbringing habits keeping him from throwing himself on it and screaming.

He took his shirt off absently, peeling it off his back to simply hold and clench it in his lap.

It had been a rough day.  His morning talks with Sakura were getting shorter.  They both had a good idea of what was going on from their own research.  They also didn't need words so much; so much experience had given them superb insights.

Sasuke was also learning why _he_ had been chosen for this mission, and not someone else better suited, or with more experience.  

A mission like this didn't need a killer shinobi, though it certainly helped.  It needed a patient one, and while Sasuke wasn't patient, he was determined.  It needed a suspicious mind, a cynical sharp mind, but also and most importantly an open mind.  Sasuke could deal with anyone, even if he did it badly; bounce back from anything even if he did stumble.  

Life cut him a rough bitter piece of pie—murdered his family for him to find and bound him to the life and death of his guilty and beloved brother.  In return, Sasuke was very flexible and single minded.  He did the mission.  He might not do it well or to the letter, but he didn't cop out on anything, not even if it disgusted or scared him.  It might not have been a fair exchange for what he lost, but it was an exchange all the same.

Plus—Hokage had to be…at least _thinking_ Naruto had something to do with it.  Nine Tails was a still a secret, but after Naruto's deliberate exile and second arson on his apartment—things came out.  Bits of clues put together to form an impossible puzzle.  Naruto was suspected of having at least _something_ to do with the new 'demonic' movement, and it was unlikely he would hurt his former teammates, even if he had to.

Sasuke stopped twisting his shirt in his hands, and folded it and laid it aside.

Carefully, he took off his Konoha hitae-headband, his hair falling in his face and into his eyes, tilting the insignia up so he could see the leaf symbol inscribed in the metal.  He rubbed his thumb against it.  

It was just a symbol.  But symbols sometimes meant more than the genuine article.

He glanced idly about the room, eyes finally resting on the two pictures on the walls.  He had already looked at them.  One was a faint watercolor of a pink cherry blossom tree in bloom, the other next to his bedside a more abstract one of yellow and brown swirly lines.  It possibly represented a storm or sand on the beach.  It possibly represented ramen or blond hair.

In any case, it pissed Sasuke off.

Lightly, he placed it on top of his shirt, and then stood to take off his pants.  He glanced casually to the side, hidden by his bangs.  Just as casually, he slipped a kunai into his palm as he fiddled with the string tie and threw it at the top of the mirror, causing it to spin up slightly so the reflective side faced the corner.  

Sasuke took off his pants and folded them, dropping the pile on the floor before getting into bed in his boxers, touching his weapons hidden under the pillows with his fingers.  

Far away, Naruto swore darkly.

***

Sasuke had been acting even colder, if possible, to him.  Ever since that night on the couch in his mind and in his mouth--Sasuke had been watching him hard.  Too hard.  And making a point of _never mentioning this.  _Talk about ungrateful…

It was irritating.  It was Sasuke; all things irritating _were_ Sasuke.  Acting cold, professional, arrogantly expectant were Sasuke.  It was like he was expecting Naruto at any moment to take him into his confidence and try to reminisce, try to confess and prove himself.  Like he had to prove _anything_ to Sasuke.  Huh.  Sasuke was actually expecting _him_ to try and rebuild the old alliances.

It was logical, it was predictable, would give Sasuke an edge, and it also wasn't gonna happen.  Naruto had no intention of rebuilding old alliances.  He wasn't going to be building alliances _period_; he was going to be making enemies.  Enemies who would hate Naruto Uzumaki, not the memory of the Nine Tailed demon fox.  

It was getting tricky, to have Sasuke staring at him all the time, watching him, and not doing anything about it.  It had been weird enough eating with him, talking to him, giving him the guided tour and acting absolutely normal and professional while at the back of both their minds, just below the surface, was the taste of the other's mouth and skin.  The taste of guilty frightening pleasure.  The taste of his surrender.  The taste of childhood.  

Sasuke was disappointed with him, Naruto could feel, and was expecting Naruto to spring back to moronic cheerful and above all _moral_ _harmless_ Naruto at any second.  It was failing Iruka-sensei's tests all over again.  

Naruto had expected his time with Sasuke to be awkward, but not—_hard_.  Not tempting.  And it _was_ tempting; having both of them near, Sakura and Sasuke, where he could see them, wanting him back—at least Sasuke wanted him back.

Sasuke had also made a point—of his own free will!—of Sakura never learning Naruto's identity.  He wanted to protect Sakura, he wanted to try and bring Naruto back.  It was so _sweet!_  

He actually thought he could win his old rival back from the demon all by himself.  So optimistically, heroically conceited.  It was just like him chasing after Itachi: Swearing to accomplish the impossible _alone_ because of pride and fear.  So melodramatic.  So charming.  So hopelessly doomed.

It was a typical Sasuke thing: He saved you, and made you hate him for it by being a jerk.

Sasuke.

Sasuke all over his mind.  

Sasuke so sour and suspicious and cold, so very far out of reach.  Naruto hadn't been able to pull the same trick twice, hadn't been able to lay his hands on that sexy silky milky hard skin again.  Not even in a handshake or an accident.  It was kinda funny; it had mostly been what he had been aiming for.  While Sasuke was nice to touch, having his fear was a million times better.  It was something about his eyes.

Sasuke was avoiding him.  Sasuke was afraid of him.  And that fear was quickly turning into hate.

Stretching, Naruto smiled as he closed his eyes and reached out mentally for the familiar mind pattern and color.  He frowned slightly and lowered his arms.

//_No.//_

Naruto looked harder, thoroughly at the strings waving loose, and then fading.

//_…_//

//_Fuck!//_

Naruto's eyes snapped open as he sat bolt upright.  His head whipped to the side and his nostrils flared.  Then he was on his feet and running.

***

~_Naruto POV_~

Give it time they say.  What you're asking for can't be done in an instant.  Give us time; give them time, give you time.  All I need is time.

The hunter and the hunted.  The big question.  What's the difference?

They talk to me; he talks to me, with his ebony eyes and cobalt-spiked hair, like a sea urchin.  A merman, my eternal nemesis.  My rival my goal my tragedy.  With his ebony eyes and cobalt spiked hair.  

Jet.

He always looked this way; he was always better looking than me.  Always looked too good.  Always was too good.  

Here's looking at you kid.  Here's looking at him.  Here's looking at him.

Moving slick as a shark, desert shark, cruising through the waves of sand.  Watching him oh so hard.  Watching him rough.  Huh.  They never did like each other.

Blood?

No.  No not yet baby, not yet.

Hit bottom.  Lose it all.  Lose it all, win it all.  Hit bottom and you fly.  Give everything up for the greater cause (what the fuck?) and win immortality.  Zen, Eastern philosophy shit, does anybody really believe this?  Shit.

Nothing is real.

All is real.

It's real if it stands up in the real world, the communal world, under duress you only know it's made well by smashing it open.  There is no victory without sacrifice.  Death is another form of life.  Murder another form of birth.

Give me a solid space to stand on.  Give me a solid space to stand on and I can move the world.  An infinite lever.  I can do it.

The herd is nervous.

Dissention.

Can you feel it?  I can.  

His hands around my wrists, like manacles, like chains.  Want to chain me up?  Want to tie me down?  Afraid I'll bite?  Oh yeah…oh yeah I bite.  

His fingers warm and sweaty and dry.  Breath always evened out, slow, steady.  Just easy sleazy from our little murderer.  Our little psychopath.  He's trying to steal me away.  He comes every night now.  

Ebony eyes marking my face, my hands.  There's blood on my hands, Pretty-Boy.  Think what you like.  

There is no perception beyond our reality; the two are synonymous, equal unmistakable.  

But it's always your fault, isn't it?  My fault and your fault and their fault.  It's my fault, but I don't mind.  So it's your fault.  It's always your fault, Pretty-Boy…You're the reason I left.  You're the reason I ran.  I dreamed of you Gorgeous.  Bastard.  Ass hole.  I dreamed of you.

…

The things I did to you—If you could see them, they'd make you reel.  They'd make you sick.  The things I did to you, Pretty-Boy.  If only you knew.

The oily smell of candle smoke hits my nose, as sensitive as it is.  Clear blue burning smoke, but I can still smell, because I'm awake and he's not.  He sleeps dead, next to me.  Cold and still…sleeps like the dead, our murderer.  

I needed an angle, an advantage, an insignia of my existence.  There's too much sand here, too much blood on him, too much darkness.  Falling.  So I brought a candle.  

The herd is restless.

You think I don't know?  Little things, big things—space is a lie.  Doesn't matter.  Idiots.  

The herd is restless.

One problem.  One problem though.  The smell of smoke hits my nose, the smell of burning flesh.  Space is a lie.  One problem.

The last place you look.  The failure of our species: Everyone knows it's coming, but not this _soon_.  Not yet.  Tomorrow.  Tomorrow never dies.  Last place you look.  Doppelgangers.

Fuck.

You were wrong Foxy.  

It isn't Sasuke Gaara kills.  

The herd is restless.

It's Sakura.

…

Run Foxy.  Run before you lose another one.

***

Long story short!

Gaara could understand what if felt like to be obsessed with Sasuke.  There was something about him, something not dark but deadly, not evil but threatening, arrogant.  Anyone could see it, feel it; Girls loved it, were intimidated by it and adults admired it.  

Gaara had hunted Sasuke for it, just as Naruto hunted him now.  

It wasn't sexual, it wasn't emotional; it was something basic, something primal.  Not in his looks, but in his eyes, they way he looked at you, the way he saw through you and into you.  In the way he hurt you and made you love it, made you taste and swallow it.

He could make you suffer.  He could make you feel pain.  He had become a master of pain, a master of cold, perfected it into hurtful pleasure, something like metal so sharp and sweet, biting down so bad that he could make you forget the loneliness, the hatred, the eternal choking grief that burst your lungs.  He made you forget all fucking _hurt_ in a beautiful fragile instance of pain.  

Sasuke could do that.  Something about the chill.  Something about the cold.  Something about the _bite_.

He was every cutter's dream.

Fight something like that, win against something like that, and you've got it made.  Sasuke was a hunter of lore, of the dark ice-age time of feudal lords and samurai and castles and superstition.  Sasuke was a Demon Hunter of lore, and Nine Tails and Shukaku recognized this, hated him.  

He was the dark tragic hero of the story, the hero that slays the dragon in his own lair, the evil wizard in his own tower, the dark lord in his own castle, the demon king in his own fortress.  Sasuke was the tragic hero, it was written into his blood, burned into his eyes.

Destroy evil.  Avenge your name.

Sasuke was the other side of the spectrum.

Cultivated aristocracy, the jewel of society, brought down so low by its own blood brother.  Fallen.  Angels could still fall.  And if angels could still fall, maybe demons could still fly.

Sasuke was an angel.  Dark avenging angel.

Opposite side of the spectrum.

Both fallen angels, but one still kept his wings, his halo, and the grace of Heaven though he turned dark and cold.  He did the dirty work of Heaven, so he was spared; his reasons for falling were heroic; unpardonable, but beautiful.  Demons were different.  Demons weren't beautiful.  Ever.

Stalking prey through the shadows, along the walls and ceilings, watching the blond bimbo flirt and scheme, setting the trap but never springing it.  

//_It's going on too long.  He doesn't belong here.//_

Society.  A collection of humans of similar class and needs and culture working collectively for his or her own benefit.  Demons didn't fit into the scheme, were recognized on sight with scanners long forgotten after the consumerism religion and the scientific technological renaissance, but never ignored.  

_Something just wasn't right about him, you know?  Did you see the way he talked to himself?  Probably some crack-head_—_he's gone now.  Forget about him._

Kill it, kill it, kill it.  

It isn't like us, it isn't natural.  It shouldn't be here, it doesn't belong here, it can't be real, it can't really be here.  Kill it.  It was never here, it never existed, it was never really true.  It was never really real.  

Kill it, kill it, kill it.  

Naruto had felt it, been singled out and pushed around automatically, even in foreign villages.  There was something about him that didn't feel right, something people could sense.  Not exactly threatening, but definitely unwelcome.  Kakashi noticed it and wondered on it, and tried to protect him from it.  It was just a basic response, automatic reflex.  It didn't have anything to do with Naruto.  It didn't have anything to do with Gaara.

Demons didn't fit in that world.  Demon hunters didn't fit inside this one.  This is ours, our land, the only home we can ever have in the forgotten cold outreaches of Nowhere at all, get rid of him, can't you feel it, in the way he moves, the way he looks at you.  

"He's hunting _you_.  He's tracking _you_.  If you won't get rid of him I _will_."

"Don't touch him.  I told you to leave him alone.  No one's to touch him, you understand?"

"He's getting too close.  He's getting too close while you try to get inside his pants."  

"It's none of your business.  I have it under control."

"You're losing his interest, the lie isn't working anymore.  They _know_.  It failed; it's already screwed.  We should move _now_."

"Are you in_sane_?  Move now, when everything is still too fresh, when they're finally biting the bait?  I have them on the string—I'm not going to screw it up now…What the hell is your problem anyway?"

"You're a _moron_, _that's_ my problem.  They've got you right were they want you, and you're so busy drooling over him that you can't see it."

"How long have you been following us?  How long have you been watching us, don't you have anything else better to do?  Don't you have a life or something?"

That was the wrong choice of words.

"If I want one I'll take his."

"You touch him over my dead body."

"He means that much to you?"  
  


"That isn't your business.  Not your problem.  But you don't touch him."

"Must be an impressive bitch then.  Maybe he'll last longer than the last one, if you don't tear his throat out again."

"Don't let the door smack your ass…Bastard."

No one really took Sakura into account.

***

Long story short!

He felt her heart flutter like a sparrow, watched her eyes go painfully wide, the veins a slender and red scratch makes on white.  She had pretty eyes, he decided.  

Sakura struggled furiously at the last instant to at least get an arm free, to at least _scream_ because she wouldn't get a chance to do more than that.   If Gaara had been the kind to laugh, he would have.  She was so weak it was funny.

The sand squeezed.

She didn't scream, but there was a slight muffled sound.  Could have been the bones breaking.  

There had been a faint struggle, slight pressure as her lungs struggled to inhale air and she tried to shift the energy around her, tried to take slight control or manipulation of it.  It had been an interesting idea, but there hadn't been enough time to see if it would have worked or not.

They were green.  Green like baby grass.  Innocent and alive.  Gaara clearly hated her, felt calmly and absurdly justified in doing so, because most of the time he didn't bother to justify himself at all.

He didn't like killing women.  Bad memories.  But it got easier each time, even a little enjoyable.

He could see why Naruto liked her, with eyes like that.  Which just showed what an idiot Naruto _was_.  _Is_.  He brought in bait, perfectly detestable perfect helpless normal human bait into a den of killers, turned his back, and expected everything to go on all right.  It was like a badly run test. 

 Gaara hated tests.  He didn't like the idea of having to prove himself; to anybody.  He knew what he was, that was all that mattered.  He was all that mattered.  Everyone else could—and would—go to hell and he would send them there himself, given time.  

He had found her by accident roaming along the ceiling nearly concealed, had followed her out of bored and agitated curiosity, and being the bright girl she was she knew someone was following her, and had tried to hide.  Unfortunately, she had picked _his_ room to hide _in_.  

Everything had just sort of fallen together after that.  She had been afraid, but not too much, and hadn't showed any real strength or skill.  It hadn't been very entertaining, but it had been something.  

His skin was itchy, his fingers were itchy, _he_ was itchy.  There wasn't too much worth hunting out there now, population had gone down in the last few days thanks to his pent-up frustration.  He couldn't quite explain it, but _they_ irritated him, made the energy sizzle.  Nearly a week.  Nearly a whole week _they_ had been here, and no matter how often he tried to get away from them _they_ always found a way to come slithering back into his consciousness.  Gaara was irritated.  And he was bored.  And he had run out of neutral and useless things to kill.

And now that she was dead…Naruto would probably upset that nature had taken its course again.  The idiot got upset over things like that.  Plus, there was no telling how much information she had already leaked.  Build everything up, just to throw in some loose screws and fuck yourself and everyone else who helped.  That was typical Naruto.  

Still…Gaara felt a little strange, now that the fun was over, even a bit uneasy.  He hadn't really thought things out, had just been acting on instinct: an intruder in his territory.  It didn't belong there, get rid of it, kill it.  Because it belonged to _him_ now; all things that walked into his den belonged to him.  

It had been basic instinct, and now that he was considering it…Naruto would probably be angry.  He didn't often see Naruto angry, not really….It'd certainly be an experience.  Gaara grinned softly to himself, teeth feeling the soft flesh of his bottom lip, the sand recollecting itself to him.

But this one really wasn't the one he wanted.  

Naruto would already be pissed.  And the blood smell was in his nose, touching and fondling his senses.

Gaara started walking.  

***

Long story short!

The smell of blood trickled into his nose like water from a leaky faucet.  There was still some warmth in the air, on her skin.  He had run fast, he was breathing hard.

//_Sakura.  Sakura_.//

He knew that hair, treasured it like nothing else.  He watched it as a child, worshipped it, a goddess in his classroom for so many years.  

//_Sakura.//_

_//no…//_

He knew it all.  He knew that attack, had seen it a million times.  Desert Coffin.  Hah.  Never worked on him, no matter how many times Gaara had tried to kill or catch him, he always just got away.  In the eternal contests between demons, Foxy was in the lead over the badger.  Or had been.  

_//…no not her…//_

//_not the girl…not the girl…//_

Hah.  He hadn't seen this trick coming.  Should have.  Should have.  Perhaps he had, and never bothered to do anything about it.  If he ignored it, maybe it'd go away.  Maybe.  Maybe not.  That's the problem with chance.  That's the problem with walking into a badger's den.

Look at his room; no one actually lives here at all.  

//_you didn't…//_

Naruto quietly touched her hair.  He got blood on his fingers.  

And she never knew it was him, had she?  Never knew that it was that idiot who was being such a pain on a much higher level.  He wanted to tell her, suddenly.  He was glad she never knew.  

The little girl had grown up, in his mind.  She had grown up and left him feeling very alone.  She never saw how he grew up.  Sakura, his sweetheart, his puppy love, never knew the monster he had become.  And now she never would.  

//_No.  Not this.  I won't take **this**_.//

He felt his skin start to ripple, a pain throbbing and gushing out of his stomach, branching and trickling down his neck and back.

"It was me," he whispered softly, to her, to nothing, touching something that wasn't really there, looking into eyes that weren't, because eyes saw and these didn't.  

Cease existence.  Cease.  

Shutdown.

Run Gaara.  Run like the wind, because the hounds of hell really are after you this time, and I'm not holding back.

***

Sasuke never saw.  

Sasuke never saw with _reason_, because Gaara barely saw it also, and it had hit _him_.  

Naruto had just gone after Gaara, following Sasuke's mind, and when he had found the both of them so close to each other, smelled the air so lightly tinted with sweat.

The walls of the fortress were stone, solid granite often a couple of feet thick, with the mountain's own flesh backing the masoned stone.  It was lucky Gaara had his sand shield on, because Naruto had forced him straight through several feet of rock to the outside.  He didn't want to fight inside.  He didn't want to fight were Sasuke could see, were Sasuke could be hurt.  

He had hit Gaara hard again, and threw him farther.

Gaara was bleeding now.  Gaara was bleeding now and Naruto had one or two broken ribs, and claw marks across his face, puncture wounds through his body, and was several miles away from the castle-fortress in the mountain ranges, struggling to keep his jaw locked and lips sealed, struggling to keep the sand from breaking his teeth and filling his mouth, getting into his nose and inside his body.

Water was raining on the ground, water and mud, all turning and twisting into shapes and tentacles, bursting and switching as the demons vied for leverage, for control.  There was a hint of fire, hint of propulsion and explosions.

The air miraged, rippled the scene, and Gaara found himself thrown back hard, his hair and skin on fire, sand already lightly coating him to extinguish the flames, while the sand was still trying to drown Naruto, still holding on hard to his struggling and kicking form.  If he got loose, Naruto would be hell to deal with.  He was hard to see, especially in the woods, near impossible, and blindingly fast.  

Muscles locked and linked together like the smoothest machinery, a jungle animal on human frame.  A monster in human skin.  Gaara's transformation was less biological, more elemental.  Great defense, greater attack power, less sensitive to where Naruto was and what he was doing.  

Gaara clenched, crushed, and the sand—already a huge mobile creature—mirrored his thoughts.  He smelled fresh blood, felt the sudden onrush of heat through the sand, and tasted it in his mouth.  There was that muffled sound again.

Gaara was gasping for breath, still a little surprised, angry, and a little…amused.  That… _moron_ was actually upset…over _her_?

Claws dug into his back, tearing into the muscle and bone.

The big difference was that Naruto was angrier than Gaara was.

***

A cleared space the size of football field, trenches pocketing the ground where the earth was dug out.  Dead brown trees, empty of leaves like a winter portrait, edged the clearing, and were spattered with bits of melted glass like tinsel on Christmas trees and burn marks, large chunks torn out of some of them, the inner fibers hanging out like lost appendages.

There was the dull constant sound of meaty thudding, sometimes sharp, sometimes throbbing, each one a wince-worthy sound.

Both combatants were in open view.  Gaara didn't see reason to hide, since he could be sensed out.  Naruto was too angry to bother.  

As endless as their chakra supply was, there was only so much their bodies could withstand being used as a medium before the burn-out really took its toll.  Their regenerative powers were nearly wiped, and took second place to offensive needs.  Defense was optional.

Naruto circled with a faint limp in his left leg, slightly hunched, eyes narrowed and dark, fiercely bleeding and bruised all over, a dark energy still dancing around his skin, flitting his hair and tugging on the remains of his clothing.  Dark blood was painted over his face, across his eyes and muscles tied up in tanned skin and coating his tangled hair.  The careless adolescent was gone, completely wiped from the predator stalking him.

The problem with healing quickly was that there was more blood to go around.

Gaara was less obviously injured; he was bruised and slightly burned across his arms and along one pale cheek, but otherwise relatively fine, and could stand up straight.  His back ached and burned horribly, and there was freshly healed skin lined over his vertebrae.  He had a twitch in his left eye though, and was suffering rapid blinking.  

Unlike Naruto, most of his energy was gone, used up in allowing Shukaku to take over and then retaking control and consciousness in the same move.  It had been harder than he had expected, and Naruto's toying with his mind wasn't making it easier.  The skin had been ripped from the front of his throat, and it was bleeding.  

Neither one, despite being bipedal, looked very human.

Naruto continued to circle, continued to watch him without getting closer.

Gaara's problem—one of his _main_ problems—was that he was too impatient.  He had a tendency to get carried away.  Too passionate.  Too territorial.  Going into his room, going near _him_ had indeed been stupid, crazy, and even Naruto wouldn't go into Gaara's room.  It was something that was not _done_.  All he required was his privacy.  If that was provoked, he responded the way he liked best: violently.  

Naruto's problem was that he was sentimental.  Naruto's problem was that he _treasured_.

His steps were smooth, nearly hypnotic, and his eyes were burning darkly, intensely predatory as he studied Gaara, dripping fluid slightly on the ground as he paced.  Despite himself, despite the anger coursing through him, giving him a rush, Gaara felt a tiny thrill.  So this is what it took to get Naruto's attention; not arguments or anger, but straight blood and violence.  The death of pink girls.

That was cool.  Gaara could do violence.  

Naruto's movements seemed to stumble, and he flickered out of sight.  Gaara drove his elbow back above his head and felt it connect and glance off, and his feet were swept out from under him, and he drove his foot up into Naruto's bleeding guts as he fell, claws driving down across his chest and face and throwing him to the ground.

This wasn't a shinobi fight, or a tournament fight.  This was a fight between demons; anything could be used as a weapon, and the main target was always the neck.  It didn't make sense, but the main target was always the neck.  Heroes went for the monster's heart, but monsters went for the neck.  Anything was a legal weapon, and biting off you opponents ear was perfectly okay.  

If not for the shadowy impressions and blood spattering on the ground, slamming into it, whole strips of dirt skidding away and a hint of fire and rapid animalistic cries and grunts, the fight could nearly be described as a scuffle.

Nearly.

"Give me one good reason," nails dug into the fleshy sensitive part of his skin along the side of his neck, palm pressed down on the bleeding front part, stinging and scalding it.  "Give me one good reason _why_."

Gaara's  throat trembled as he tried to laugh.  Naruto's foot was increasing pressure on the bottom tip of his breastbone, intending to break it slowly, intending to break it and use it to puncture his lungs, collapse his ribs.  One of Gaara's arms was dislocated and broken where Naruto had suddenly gripped it below the elbow and yanked and swung him hard so he smashed against the ground.  His other arm was being gripped by Naruto, being pressed to the ground.  He could probably kick Naruto if he tried—he still had enough chakra left for one or two lethal attacks—but he didn't feel like it.  

And Naruto was gripping his throat rather tightly.

Aquamarine eyes sparkled brightly, delicately, made all the brighter and richer by the insomnia psuedo-mascara marks around Gaara's eyes.  His red hair was pasted to his skin, not darker or lighter with the recent addition of blood and sweat to it.  His skin was grotesquely pale.  Weakly, smugly, he grinned into crimson maroon eyes.

//_A reason.  A good reason…She pissed me off?  She was taking you away?//_

"She was in my room," he got out simply.  

Naruto may understand that, how that was reason enough, but then again he might not.  Gaara didn't have much, but he was viciously territorial over what he did have.  Sharing was for other people, people who needed people.  Gaara didn't need anybody but himself.  Everybody else could die for all he cared.

The nails pierced his skin, dug in a little.  Naruto opened his mouth, and then let it slide close.  

The hand on his neck relaxed a little, enough so Gaara could try and breathe.  Operative word being _try_; geez, he couldn't even _think_ of swallowing.  Most of his spit would probably slide out onto his shirt.  Or chest, really.  He had lost most of shirt and pants already.  Gaara was glad there wasn't a mirror around; it might make him a little sick if he could see himself.  

Physical pain wasn't something Gaara was used to, but when it did happen, he still greeted it as hungrily as he had when he was a child.  He still craved attention madly, and with the burning dark way Naruto was looking down on him, furious at him, _revolving_ around him because of what he had done to the pink girl—Naruto was so bloody _angry_…Gaara was finally getting some of that attention.

That was partly why he smiling.  The other part was that he was sure Naruto was going to kill him.

"Why Sasuke."

It was a question, but there wasn't the mandatory high lilt at the end of it; it wasn't worded like a question, didn't sound like one, but it was.  Naruto's voice had lost all emotion, a definite welcome change.  Being around a cheerful person was very depressing.

Gaara's eyes dimmed, the smile eased from his lips.  He stopped meeting Naruto's gaze, let his eyes slide shut, let himself run.  He didn't want to answer that question.  

He couldn't lie.  He had gone to kill Sasuke, and they both knew it.  He couldn't lie—he _wouldn't_ lie!  He had nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to feel guilty about.  He had wanted Sasuke dead, and had gone to do it.  Simple.  Naruto had gotten in the way.  That was all.  That was all.

Naruto had seen him withdraw.  Pressure slammed down quick and hard on his throat, and then abruptly released.  Gaara's eyes snapped open as he tried to choke and found he couldn't; he could only fight to breathe and did that badly.

Naruto stared him down.

"I told you once…That I wouldn't let you hurt those precious to me."  

Gaara closed his eyes.  Shut him out.  

"Even if it means killing you, Gaara.  But I won't let you hurt them."

Gaara choked, "Then—do it."

It was dark behind Gaara's eyelids, and his ears were ringing, throbbing with his own heartbeat and ringing with the beating he had taken, the beating he had given.  He could barely hear anything, and he didn't want to feel what his body was telling him.  It didn't feel good anymore.  He didn't want to die.

Strangely, he heard Naruto sigh.

"Why?" he asked softly, an emotion—confusion—finally coloring his voice.

Gaara felt vaguely like shrugging, but with pain a solid gold cast on one arm, and Naruto gripping the other one so tightly, he felt that it wouldn't be a good idea.  He also didn't feel like talking, or even breathing.  Dimly, he registered that Naruto's hand was gone from his throat.  Blearily, he opened his eyes.

Naruto was looking down at him still, but not staring…not angry.  Gaara had his complete attention still, but he wasn't angry with him.  He wasn't trying to choke him anymore, and his hands were folded in his lap, foot off his chest, off his lungs.  That meant that Gaara's good arm was free, didn't it?  

Gaara looked away, the rings around his eyes creating that familiar image of a druggie Goth.  Dangerous and vulnerable at the same time, and achingly sad.  It gave his face emotion, a living mask, without ever hinting that perhaps there _was_ no emotion behind those eyes.  Perhaps there was no soul behind those bright eyes.  

Naruto could kill him here.  Naruto _should_ kill him here.  He would go after Sasuke again, if he took him back to the fortress.  Beyond that, he had attacked him.  Beyond that…

…he had killed Sakura.  

Over something as trivial as going into his room.  Naruto knew he was touchy about things like that, but also knew Gaara could have shown a little more tolerance than that.  Sakura never should have been anywhere _near_ Gaara…his little surveillance team hadn't done so well after all, it seemed.

Gaara blinked quickly, looking down to the side, trying to shut Naruto out again while at the same time keeping his attention.  Naruto was watching him silently.

"Why?"

Third time is always the charm.  Things come in threes, and it was always the last one that really hit.  Gaara couldn't ignore this one anymore, even if Naruto did or didn't kill him afterwards.  There were some things worst than death, some things that had to be played out right to the end.  It wasn't a matter of life or death, it was a matter of following the _rules_.  

There was a choice.  There was always a choice.

Gaara looked up under hooded lids, as distant and helpless as possible.  It wasn't an intentional move—Gaara hated it when people thought he was weak, never showed the least sign—and at any rate it wasn't very effective.  It was however true.  He was helpless, and he wanted to put a lot of distance between them.  Naruto felt he was being studied.

Painfully, blood began to flow back through Gaara's arm, along the correct veins and—very, very slowly—healing it.  By degrees, he was able to make it move.

Lightly, Gaara's fingers brushed up along his cheek, gripped his hair, and pulled down.  Naruto went down some of the distance, hands out and one close to Gaara's face, eyes always on his teeth.  It would be something Gaara would do, try to bite his eyes out or his nose off.  That was the sort of thing Gaara did.

Bright aquamarine looked up at him sullenly, maroon eyes staring sullenly back.  Bloodied, stubbed and ripped fingers grazed lightly over Naruto's cheek again as Gaara's arm lost its temporary strength and fell back to lie on his chest.

Gaara blinked once, and a small, scornful smirk brushed the edge of his lips.  

"Guess."

Naruto narrowed his eyes again, didn't move back, didn't move away, didn't respond.  

Gaara relaxed when fingers touched the side of his neck again, wrapped around his neck, his own question answered.  So.  Naruto had finally learned something, even if he had learned it too late.  Typical.  

But good.  This was good to him.

Gaara's neck pressed up into Naruto's hand, pressed his face up and closer to the demon boy's above him, using his weak unbroken arm to push him up the faint distance of a few inches up.

Naruto's eyes widened.

…Hard and a little hot, sticky with blood and spit and sweat…tracing along his cheek, never touching his mouth and Naruto wouldn't let him get near his throat, Gaara would still tear it out with his teeth if he got the least chance…Not very mobile, not very efficient or strong, it wasn't anything really—outstanding.

It was the thought, as they say, that counted.

Gaara…

Roughly, quickly, minds blazed to life along the edges of the clearing out of the shadows.  Human minds.  Closer look…shinobi minds.  //_Shit_.//  With shinobi weapons and tricks, a group attack.  Naruto was out in the open, out in the daylight, and hurt bad, weakened from the power drain with the fight and all.  From where?  How?  

Naruto froze, and pressed Gaara down a little with his hand on his throat, eyes wide but silent.  Gaara's eyes were closed, and there was a bitter look on his face.  Naruto let his body relax slightly, put his cheek next to his, and spoke quietly into his ear.

Sasuke.

Cell phones: There not just in New York anymore.

***

A/N:  Nap.  Time.  Now.  Night.

Were the jumps believable?  It's…timing.  The timings funny.  It's vaguely there if you squint.  I think I'm getting Gaara down.  He's harder than he looks.


	6. I: Fire

A/N: this…_Thing_…is 51 f***ing pages.  I kid you not.  I kid _me_ not.  I can't…believe it.  DAMN! …wowzers, Look out, I can _type_…

I promised SasuNaru.  *Grin*  I never promised that would be _all_ I was delivering.          I made a mistake in earlier chapters.  I wrote that Kazekage was killed by Gaara, and now it turns out Kazekage was killed much _earlier _byOrochimaru.  It's not terribly important to the story really, but just so you know…my research is haphazard.  

I'm actually going to respond to my reviews(ch5-4).  My goodness…

* I'm glad everyone liked the Gaara/Naruto fight scene; that really made me happy.  

*I made a convert of Jiro, who now likes NaruGaara; thanks a whole bunch—kisses and cream!—he/she said I had _talent_.  ^_^ Hoo wa, that is cool.

*Gracias also to Myth720 for finishing Predilection with such a delicious ending; darling, this chapter is extra-super long just for you, okee-day?  P.S:  You can organize a story.  With plot and—logical adorable events.  I am startled.  I've never actually _met_ anyone who can organize _anything_.  I know I can't.

*Kudos out to Monkfish for having one _funky_ pen name, sticking the Marius-god phrase in my head, and following this fic very well, and reviewing _each time_!  Yay!  Not even I remember to do that…most of the time, anyway.  Actually, I tend to remember your reviews; they always have some funny catch phrase in them that sticks in my head long after I've forgotten what it was about it.  I'm glad you like my quotes.  I like my quotes, but I feel really great when other people like my quotes.  I'd feel quite silly if I was the only one.

*JadeTiger's reviews are stunning as always—I read them when I'm feeling down or bored or can't remember what my name is anymore, and they always perk me right back up!  …And sometimes they even make me type!  Which **is** miraculous!  Trust me on this.

*To FelisDeityus…much thanks.  To you, I dedicate the lemon that will be hosted in the next chapter.  Your encouragement on the SasuNaru lemon was very touching, and it's what really gave me the courage to go all the way through an actual lemon.  Also your characterizations—er, well, metaphors let's say, because I don't think that's the actual term—of the characters was adored, as was the reassurement that they were IC.  That's probably the most important thing to me.  I can screw up a lemon and plot line, but I'd hate to screw up a character.  I'm not real talented in saying it, but thank you.  A lot.  Really.  I mean it.

*To les-mizerable…no worries.  I lose my vocabulary more times than I lose my socks.  The meaning carries over. *bows*  My thanks.

*To Splash-yaoiluv…I'm glad somebody got it!  ^^;;  I was starting to feel really stupid and silly, and then you got it!  Yay!  …And yes, I made a grammar mistake.  Sorry.  I honestly didn't see it at all, and if you hadn't pointed it out to me I never would have.  One time I misspelled my name on a class presentation in REALLY BIG LETTERS…and I didn't realize it until I presented and somebody pointed it out to me _during_ the presentation.  I felt rather silly.  Rather like now, actually.  Ergh.  One day…I shall learn to spell my name.  Then I can tackle everything else, but right now…that's the big deal, right now.  Later, comes the grammar.  I'm glad you like the style though!  That's _good_!  That's great, actually.

*Mangacat-ness…don't worry.  I often do both.  It's a very interesting feeling, and shouldn't be allowed more than once a month.  But it can be done!  Keep practicing!  Eat corn flakes!  They're good for you!

*It's my baby!  *waves wildly*  Sweet sappy shoutout to firedraygon97, my baby, you know it!  The One whose been with me since the beginning, totally cool, been here everyday in everyway every time.  One of my cherished regulars, so to speak.  I hope you like this chapter as much as you liked the last.  Just mind, this one's a _leetle_ dark.  So to speak.  Just a little.

*Hiya Ayako!  They are random ideas, and if you can see the string, I am extremely impressed.  Sometimes I can't, I know…but I'm working to make it thicker, clearer.  I like your name.  I'm a sucker for names starting with 'A'.  Don't know why.  Ayako Ayako Ayako…okay I'll stop now.  Before I hurt myself, or something or other.

*Topazina!  I'm on your _favorites_??!!  …psycho cool, savvy?  Neato.  Totally cool that you liked the fight scene, I wasn't sure how that would go over; but if you liked that, I think you'll _love_ this chapter.  Fight scenes in it, slightly more detailed at times, slightly—actually a LOT more angrier.  Don't worry too much about the last line…I feel stupid; I thought it would make sense, and then I wrote it _wrong_ ^^;;  Mainly it just meant, "The cavalry is here."  That's all.  Have I converted yet another NaruGaara fan?  *Grins widely*  Say yes, oh do say yes!  …shwanky name, by the way.  It's after a rock, isn't it?

*AsnGothic?  Neato name.  Everyone has neato names.  What's the Asn part stand for?

*And somehow Doven was able to find humor… Great!  I try and put it in there, but I understand humor like frogs understand accounting.  It's vaguely there.  I had no idea my fic was –dark- dark.  Never quite realized it.

*Thanks an oodle to Neko Senshi Erin for the address; I was there and I was like—WOW…*drool*…yeah, that's definitely where it's going.  Just need to post the preminaries there first and finish the chapter, and that's where it's going babe!  Muchas gracias!

*Japime Gurl the pro's reviewing _my_ ficcy??? ^____^  Unfortunately there's no smiley face that looks like a scream, but if there _was_ I would put it up there right now.  I'm kinda glad I made Nine Tails a girl too; adds more weirdness, even if I didn't think up the idea.  Err…dinna think I'll ever get around to a good reason for the merger…unless it's in this chappie.  My brain's kinda of fried; I'm sorry you got the fried-brain-response.  Brain fried.  With ice!

* Bishiehuggler…you use the word 'alluding'.  *snicker*  Sorry, I just find that funny.  It's a big word!  And—I don't know why it's funny, it just is.  Sympathies on Sasuke being unusual welcomed and appreciated.  Argh.  Say it with now girl, "Argh."  You say it?  I said it.

*Seph Lorriane, I understand completely…half the time I don't know where _I'm_ going with this.  I know what the sequence is, but the purpose or intended effect.  It's just sort of…There.  Cooo…and you said it was unique.  Unique.  Chya!  That's one of the sweetest things anyone's said yet.  I really want unique.  Unique is good.  Strive and strive, but I'm only validated when you said 'Unique'.  It really is a big deal, I just don't know how to say it accurately.

*And lily day who likes smut ^_^  hi.  Me too!  Glad you like the descriptions; I'm not sure if I'm cluttering the page or just being too ambiguous.  Trying to find middle ground, reviews _do_ help a lot.

*Poor Naruto: Yeah, that's what I was thinking.  I'm not sure if I gave it enough transfer and logic behind the actions though, but I think I did.  

*I wanna give Bronze Eagle a big hug.  I don't think I'm gonna be able to fit Kakairu into this either.  Perhaps, but I wouldn't really bet on it.  I'm a Gaara fan too; he's weird and interesting and a very strange paradox.  I hope I find a good way to play him in here, and thanks for the Sakura tibit.  That was more work than fun, but it's good to know that it was work with purpose.  I'd feel silly if it wasn't.

*And if everyone would like to join me in giving a big shout-out and official sporking to Clara, please join in now: HOW'RE THE PICS COMING ALONG!  OKAY?  GOOD!  GLAD TO HEAR IT!  HOPE I HEAR FROM YOU SOON!

…Clara's being an absolute _doll_ and said she's going to draw me pic of Naruto-san.  She really did.  Coo~oolness, ne?  Super coolness.  Never happened to _me_ before…and I'm not letting it go either!  Too totally cool, beyond ego stroking and everything, and I'm like "Aih wa!"…and I've probably just scared her off just now ^_^;;;

Warnings: Angst.  Anger problems.  Justice problems.  **Severe** anger problems.  Suicide.  Cannibalism.  Not for pregnant women.  Read with discretion  :)

Standard Disclaimer Applies: At All Times

Attraction 

By gelfling

gelfling8604@yahoo.com

//_Thoughts//_

_::Invading thoughts_::

||Nine Tails speech||

***

KIDS! BRINGING ABOUT THE ARMAGEDDON CAN BE DANGEROUS! PLEASE DO NOT ATTEMPT IT IN YOUR OWN HOME!  
_-- Good Omens,_ Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

"In the beginning, the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry, and been widely regarded as a bad move."   
_--_Douglas Adams,_ The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy_

Never juggle loose Swiss army knives.

-_Unknown_

***

Sasuke must have found Sakura.  Or had been startled by the fight, and called his team via cell phone.  They had had a team waiting on the outskirts, Naruto had been aware…he didn't know the fight had carried _that_ far…Of course distance didn't mean so much when a demon was trying to kill you, and vice versa.  

Sasuke must have alerted them when he had found Sakura, after Gaara had gone after him.  Shit.  Shit shit shit.  This was not turning out good.

Sasuke had found Sakura.  

//_Oh **shit**_.//  

Naruto didn't dare try to reach out for his mind at this distance, not when he had bigger things to worry about.  He desperately wanted to know what Sasuke was thinking; hell, what if Sasuke thought _he_ had done it?  …What would he do?  He was unpredictable enough; dark enough…jeez this was—

||Here||

Colors differed around the clearing, some close, several meters away, and others farther.  Some were strong, bright, easy to see, and others were an unobtrusive shade of grade, easy to overlook and hard to pin down.  There were a lot of them though, roughly fifteen that he could pick up, and he vaguely felt more to the south.  Too damn many.  

He was worn out, Gaara was worn out and injured, and this was not in the plans.  This was not planned.  Work it.  Make it work.

Quietly, he leaned down and whispered in Gaara's ear.

***

Shinobi crowded on the outskirts, careful, silent, and watchful.

The fight had been fantastic—violent and far too, too powerful.  _Nothing_ should be that powerful as it was.  It was bright and showy, impossible to miss, at the rate of chakra they were putting out…were they even _done_ yet???

Naruto sniffed.  Fear.

Fear turns to anger.  Anger turns to hate.  Hate… 

…turns to predictability.  

Naruto spoke quietly into Gaara's ear.  What he said couldn't be heard, wouldn't be known, it could have been any combination of threats or predictions or warnings or pleas.  It could have been anything; Naruto spoke so softly, so intimately close to him.  

After some time, there was flicker of energy deep in Gaara.

Naruto leaned up, loomed over him and looked down, pausing as if in thought.  In the dead brown-gray trees, devoid of leaves and offering only slight cover, and behind the boulders and gorse heather that offered more cover, shinobi crouched down and tensed in their minds and loosed their muscles and weapons.  

This was the killing the blow.  Get ready.  Attack when the other falls.  Get ready.

Lean forward…wait for it…

::_BLIND!_::

Screams broke out, high screeches and strangled moans, men and women voices broke out as an incandescent brightness flared in front of their pupils, fried their retinas in boiling fat.  It was just an illusion, but the kind of illusion that could injure.

Those that had felt it but hadn't got the full force fell back, cringed, winced, and struggled to get back to their feet.  Those that hadn't felt it at all looked around wildly, trying to place what had happened, who had been struck and where, was it time to attack?  Did they attack?  Was it safe?  

Explosions of shuriken broke out; immediate fire was returned, places abandoned and repositioned.  

Gaara tasted blood.

Naruto ran.  

***

The gray-brown trees, dead around, rushing by so fast they were like streams of color, of light and wind and smell.  

Naruto got out of the center, out of the confused fray, and circled around slowly, brushing against the minds to know who was there and who wasn't, what the plan was, how many he needed to kill.  Then he darted back into it all, speeding and eating up the ground.

This was simple.  Nine Tails touched him.  Kill them all.

Violence broke out more.

Doppelganger effect, fan out and kill the far ones.  Gaara will take care of the close ones by habit.

***

Naruto gave a scream of something strange, high and metallic, and faltered in his land rushing jet, nearly losing his grip on the ground and slipping into the shadows and branches of a tree, greasy pain oiling his leg.

"Slow down, you'll hurt yourself."

Inwardly, Naruto raged and swore, Nine Tails hissing and angry and too damn close to the surface…Dammit Gaara!  Naruto's pace in his fox form was phenomenal, unbeatable, and damn well hard to follow.  How the hell had the man kept _up_?  And at his _age_!

Hatake Kakashi blinked in a bored fashion looking up at him from his place on the ground, his hands loose at his sides, hair in usual disarray, looking as stoned and relaxed as only a moody hentai called Kakashi could.  And knowing his teacher, armed to the teeth.

Kakashi took a leisurely step forward.

Naruto slid back, ears pricked, eyes slitted, and stayed in the shadows to hide his form and eyes and the blood coating his body.  He sniffed the air motionlessly.  

There _were_ doppelgangers about, the one in front of him was, but where was the real one?  He was tentative about scanning for his mind, for his location; it was a good technique, but how would the Copy Cat take it?

Naruto slipped away.  He could feel Kakashi close, following him, tried to trace his mind for thoughts.  He was only slightly glad his teacher was in his –serious- state of mind and not his –hentai- state of mind.

_//…can't see…energy…it's him…there…smell?  What…he knows…how does he know…//_

_//…he's running from…beat up Gaara…why…Naruto?_…//

Against better judgment, Naruto cut the connection smoothly, blocking out the voice first solidly before allowing himself to seep out his Kakashi's upper consciousness.  He didn't want to hear that.  So he wouldn't.  Sasuke had been bad enough, with all his expectations.  He wasn't going to take it from Kakashi too if he didn't have to.  He vanished without seeming to; so that the Kakashi clone was still watching the shadow clone, each giving off enough signature energy to fully imitate the originals.

Naruto's eyes slid to the shadowed underside of a tree limb as he crept.  There wasn't anything there.  Just the gnarled shadow.  So that had to be Kakashi…waiting there…

His leg was burning up, hurting and throbbing like anything.  The knife had to be poisoned, to cause such pain.  The pain nearly consumed him; Nine Tails was raging, his chakra fluctuating like mad inside his circulatory system.  But poison…had never affected him this deeply.  

His teacher was right there.  His enemy was right there.  He didn't know Naruto was there, could see him, was too busy manipulating his shadows and spies to divert 100% of his attention to the spot where Naruto was crouched, because that's what he would have needed to see Naruto's outline.  

Glancing at it, Kakashi's mind was bent in funny directions, soft and hard in different places.  He had the ability to shift from killer to father in an easy smooth motion that had nothing to do with insanity.  Somewhere in his line of work, Kakashi had found a way to thrive, to appear nearly normal to people who weren't looking too hard, to be normal inside his own head.  

He wore masks on top of masks, personality on top of personality.  And strangely enough, he wasn't insane, although he leant towards eccentric when events allowed and he needed to vent that pressure.  His mind was workable fluid maze of reactions.  Because of that labyrinth, he was slightly difficult to manipulate, to get him to respond the right way to the right reaction.  

And he was right there.  Not defenseless, but not hard to hit either.  Naruto had the element of surprise.

Without turning his head, Kakashi's left eye met Naruto's.

Neither moved.

There was a cold thrumming beneath his chin, next to his neck, an absence of matter and space and power, a dark cold metallic scientific emptiness that vibrated underneath his chin.  If medical death had solid form, this was it.  If technological frigidity had a taste, this was it.

So.  That's what it had been.  That knife in his leg was the same as the knife at his throat.

Iron to bind the fey.  

||Human trick||

Kakashi had really done his homework for once.  Naruto idly wondered if everyone else had iron knives on them too, like the one he had at his neck.  A doppelganger could kill, and the one standing behind him certainly could as well, especially with Kakashi directing it from so close.

Naruto bit back the cool anger, the sinking feeling, and mouthed the word, "Go," to Kakashi in warning, not wanting to speak, and not daring to try and use jutsu with the Copy Cat Sharingan watching him so close.  It was too risky.  Besides—

He did not want to fight Kakashi anyway.  He could if he had to.  He did not want to.  It was too risky that Kakashi would remember too much, would copy and learn too much, and that wasn't something Naruto was willing to risk.  He didn't want to kill him.  He didn't want to show his real strength, not yet.  Not yet.

Naruto's face gave nothing away.  

He pushed backwards hard, knocking into the clone, keeping the knife as far from him as he could while the doppelganger stabbed at his chest only to hit a rock instead.  Naruto was gone.

Naruto ran off again close to the ground amid the shadows and jetsam, then roared shrilly when pain exploded in his thigh where another iron knife had caught him, this time tripping and crashing into trees and along the dirt, fumbling for a steady safe place, whimpering in his throat while salt pricked at his eyes…  

It was just a _knife_!  It wasn't anything outstanding, and sure Gaara had beaten him up, but damn it all he should be able to run faster!  Even if it was iron, it shouldn't hurt him so damn _much_!  It hadn't hurt him this much when he was a kid, hadn't meant anything at all to him when he was a kid!

Kakashi stepped into view again.

"Stop running.  This is far enough," came the flat command.

Naruto growled from the shadow he had managed to tumble into and create.

"You've got to stop this."

This time, Naruto's face gave him away.  His eyes looked behind Kakashi.

 Kakashi turned around, but too late.

An arm of sand cannoned through him, through the illusion, and headed straight on towards Naruto who disappeared.

Gaara…

Gaara had…

Events replayed themselves in Naruto's mind in a split second, rolling and running and strained through the sieve of logic.  

…Gaara hadn't been aiming for Kakashi.  

Gaara had been aiming for _him_!

//_Bastard!_//

Green eyes swiveled to meet his still alive and running and still bloody _angry_…!  He'd been beating to a bloody raggedy pulp and he…What was _wrong_ with this kid!

//_Many things_.//

Naruto snarled.

The hell with him.

***

Naruto snarled at him, and his energy vanished, going west.  Running away.  Circling back to the fortress to protect it from anyone getting inside and prevent information from getting out.

Good.  The idiot always did learn things too late.  Too soft and caring, but viciously cunning and powerful when he wanted to be.  Which was nearly never, but it was enough for now.  Naruto could be so very powerful—but he still held some of himself back, after all this time.  

Gaara mentally sneered.

Weakling.

They could easily slaughter this bunch here, this bunch attempting to kill them, easily.  The fact that they were injured and hurt was a minor consideration.  They had lost a lot of chakra, but not so much that it was impossible.  No.  Naruto just didn't want to fight.  Not them.  Not him.  He would fight Gaara, would kill Gaara, but he wouldn't fight these ninja, not unless he had thought about it beforehand.  Not in cold blood.  Never in cold blood.  Naruto couldn't do it.  

Naruto was an idiot.

He wanted and then he didn't want, and in the end Naruto _never_ knew what it was he really wanted.  He always chased after the wrong thing, and was always disappointed when he got it.

Fighter's instinct sounded a hundred different warning bells and klaxons, all of which Gaara ignored.  They were circling around him now, because he seemed more injured than Naruto and he was easier to see, to find.  They always went after the weak ones, didn't they?  

Doesn't matter.

Slowly, Gaara gathered and concentrated all his energy that he had in reserve, all the firepower that he had held back.  He had had energy for two more lethal attacks.  He gathered that energy now, the energy he hadn't used.  His fingers touched the ground, stirred, felt the dirt run over them and under his nails, felt the sand press back against his palms.

The energy pulsed, brilliant crimson red slashed with pale golden streaks like the early morning sand dunes, pulsed and grew and Gaara—

Let it explode.

Miles away, Naruto felt it.  Was knocked off his feet by it, and didn't doubt the efficiency of it.  Mostly raw energy mixed in with the earth's own potential; resulting in something that looked and acted like a bomb, if bombs could be made of sand.  It was—typical Gaara style—overkill.  But from the sudden dead silence and smaller shocked stillness, it had apparently done the job.  

But there were still things moving there.  Moving towards Gaara.

Naruto looked back for a long time.

His leg ached.  Burned.

Then he headed forward, ears and nose pricked for Sasuke.

***

Heavy breathing bounced over the stones; sounding like the owners throat had been put through a blender on puree and later forgotten.  The rhythm was slow, hypnotic and Sasuke had to admit that it was very hard to tell if the prisoner was dead or alive, and much harder to tell if he was asleep or awake.  

Yet since the prisoner had never been careless or known to sleep, much less make things simple by dying.  

Small burns, cuts, and bandages covered his body; some of them were from Gaara's fight with the Leaf shinobi upon capture, as most of Naruto's inflictions had already healed and sucked up the last of his reserve energy.  Some of the other one's were from his first and only escape attempt, and the rest had been added through time.  

Now that a face had been put with the attacks, the sheer amount of ninja killed by Gaara was stunning.  All precautions were taken.  

Wrapped around his wrists and ankles iron manacles inscribed with writing anchored him to the floor, keeping him from even lifting his limbs.  Around his neck sat a set of Buddhist prayer beads, with slivers of silver and iron in between them, touching his bare skin.  Pieces of leaves and wood were bound around one arm against his bare skin.  

Further, he was enclosed in the center of a concrete room with thick iron bars going through the roof to floor with a small door three feet high and strong iron lock.  A circle of salt that simmered with energy and prayers surrounded the whole arrangement.  

There wasn't a speck of dirt or sand inside the room anywhere, and everyone who came in was required to take off their shoes and most of their clothing to keep sand from collecting and getting inside.  

Two ninja stood guard in either far corner of the room, in the shadows, and the door to the room itself was a thick rusty arrangement that could only be locked and unlocked from the outside.  There were no windows, the walls were thick, and a single candle placed near but out of reach of Gaara gave illumination.  

All of Gaara's weapons had been removed, and most of his clothes as well.  

Every Anbu, active and retired member that could be spared was called in, all senior proficient ninja and monk was gathered to guard the demon creature Shukaku of the Sands.  It was through the large gathering of monks that the demon's weakness for iron and inability to cross salt properly prepared was discovered.  

The sand demon child was not healing as quickly as he should have been, his energy was deploringly low, and he didn't seem able to move any of the iron off the floor and wouldn't touch it willingly.  Even cut and burned, his muscles gleamed in the candlelight, but he barely moved.  

He wouldn't even talk, Sasuke thought irritably, about anything, he wouldn't even curse or look at anything.  If not for his ragged and ugly breathing, he could easily be dead.  Yet a scarce 30 or so hours ago he had killed strangled one guard through the bars, and killed the other with the other's weapon.  That was before the salt circle and iron manacles.  Now he didn't move at all.  

"We hear your demon king is moving back up north.  He's moving very quickly," came a cool, soothing voice, like well water over fried nerves.  The heavy, hypnotic breathing continued without change.  

"That was some days ago.  Nearly five, I believe."

Sasuke allowed an uncomfortably long pause to follow for the information to sink in.  It was close, but five days was stretching the truth.  But since the guards were changed irregularly, as was mealtimes he usually didn't touch, there was no way for Gaara to tell time save by the candle length.  In fact it had only been three and half very busy days.  But in this cell, with the delirium and blackouts and pain, it may have well have been a month.

"You're wasting your time."

Gaara's expression didn't change.

"This is what he does, this is how he acts."  Sasuke's voice was still cool, nearly sympathetic.  Reasonable, detached.  Cold blue sophistication.  It was like a light at the end of the tunnel.  The iron, the burn, the gritty scratchy feel was everywhere.  It was damnably cold and he was burned all over.  Sasuke's voice came again.

"You know what'll happen…"

Gaara continued to breathe hoarsely, his head bowed.  Not even his neck muscles twitched.  He really looked dead.  Sasuke walked forward silently, and crouched down on the rim of the salt circle.  

"He's not coming back, Gaara…He didn't come back for the other.  He won't come back for you either, not after what happened."  Sasuke's voice was coolly upset, yet it wasn't directed at Gaara; that was obvious.  He wasn't offering pity or sympathy, but allowing room for thought, for movement.  

"It was one final tick, one final joke…That's all this is to him…Don't think on what we have to offer, think on what you have to gain."

//_What?  That wasn't what they were supposed to say…//_

"Think instead of what you have to lose, what you have _left_.  What he's left you with."

_//…ooh, clever one.  Very nice.//_

"What do you still have…that he hasn't taken yet."

Sasuke's voice was hypnotic, seductive.  Refreshingly, calmingly dead serious and simple after Naruto's double-talk and volatile banter.  It was nearly imperceptible, but Gaara's breathing was getting rhythm, and getting shorter and a little softer.  Sasuke's voice was always objective, always cool, always—in tune.  

Not angry, cold, contemptuously arrogant like the first ones had been, the ones he had later tried to kill, the ones that burned him more, the ones that hurt him and played with his mind.  Sleeping with Naruto—sleeping _for_ Naruto had weakened Gaara's mental barriers, made them easier to open.  And it had hurt.  It had hurt a lot.  But they took nothing from him, he was certain of that.

Sasuke allowed the silence to grow, to flourish, until the silence inside Gaara's head became unbearable.  The two ninja in the corners fought the urge to move, to shift.  It was too still.  Gaara wasn't even breathing anymore.  The candle flickered.  

Gaara inhaled deep, and a slow grin played softly on his lips.  Achingly, by degrees, he lifted his head until he was looking into Sasuke's eyes, and Sasuke was looking into his.  The candle cast shadows over their faces like markings.  It was the first time Gaara realized it was Sasuke speaking to him; he hadn't recognized the voice for the tone in it, so gentle.  

Slowly, he beckoned with his fingers, his hand trapped to the floor.  

Silently, one pale hand gripped the bars, and Sasuke's face came to rest next to it, his expression neither open and innocent nor suspicious and fearful.  His face was as implacable as before, a living mask mounted in ivory and topped with obsidian shards.  Gently, easing his way around the burns, Gaara leaned forward, unable to move his hands or feet.  

The circle of iron was small, and their faces were no more than some inches apart.

"He must…have tasted good…for you…to miss him…so much…"  

Gaara's voice was terrible, broken and ragged and repulsive and dry.  His breathing swelled now, from the simple effort of saying one sentence.

A phantom shadow of emotion passed through Sasuke's eyes; it was gone before Gaara could be certain it was there.  Yet Sasuke's silence confirmed it, as did the small part and close in his lips.  Neither bothered to identify "him".  They both knew.

// _When did Gaara…It wasn't **real**…It wasn't…_//

Gaara stayed frozen, not a muscle shifting.  The light reflected off his eyes like glass.

After a while, Sasuke spoke, very quietly.  

"I go after what hurts me, and hurt it, so it can't do it again…It's the only way," Sasuke answered, his voice still calm and collected, still refreshingly cool and pliable.  "You did the same, once.  Yet now you do nothing.  For how long, Gaara?  For how long?"

Gaara said nothing, only stared that strange unblinking stare he had even though both eyes were bruised and tired.  Searching, waiting…His defiance seemed all the sharper for his vulnerability somehow, to Sasuke's eyes.  Silently, he eased back and let himself fall into his old position, head down and fingers stiff.

Sasuke closed his mouth quickly and his face hardened.  He had almost spoken out.  He had almost killed him.  But he wouldn't play Gaara's games.  Not now, not ever.  He drew back and stood, before turning and walking out of the door, locking it from the outside.  

He had almost killed him.  He still wasn't—completely sure what had happened to Sakura.  He simply knew that he had been attacked, that something fast and powerful had happened, and had gotten away from him quickly.  Deep in his stomach, Sasuke had been terrified.  Yet too intrigued not to follow.

So when he had set out to follow them, to watch them and had alerted the team that trouble was on the way, he had forgotten about Sakura deliberately.  For one, following the huge ball of violent energy was more important than finding her to tell her what was happening, because she had to have been blind not to see what was happening.  For another, he wanted to leave her behind, because he didn't want her near the danger.  

But she had never reported back.  It was possible that she had been injured in the fight, but they hadn't found a trace of her.  Teams were watching the fortress, or trying to.  The landscape kept seeming to shift together and apart.  It was an optical illusion, but it was also too strange to be unnatural.  Nar—

…That couldn't have been real.

But how could have Gaara had known, if it wasn't?  

That—event, had been on Sasuke's mind often, true.  But he had put it down as unimportant, in the grand scheme of things.  It was, after all, just a dream.  Just a dream.  Just another crazy wet dream.  About Naruto.  And him.  Naruto and Sasuke.  Together.  Intimately.

…pleasurably.  

…That was impossible.  It couldn't have been real.  It just…

…another crazy wet dream.  That was all it could have been.  Just a dream.

Sasuke didn't know where Sakura was.  He only hoped that if she was caught, that her keepers would be smart enough not to hurt her.  But Sakura was clever, and sharp.  She would get out.  She always got out of trouble.

He didn't look back.

***

The news came in on flat-footed feet.  

Gaara was captured.  Naruto was on everyone's lips.  War had been informally declared.  Gaara was alive.  The two delegates that Naruto had sent to the village had been heavily questioned, truth jutsus to make them tell more.  They hadn't started on torture yet, but they probably would soon.  

One of the delegates was dead.  Apparently hung herself.  

Gaara was probably going to die.  

No one knew that Sakura was dead, though they suspected and she had been declared missin-nin.  Nearly the same thing as dead.  Would have nearly the same results.

_//Well Gaara, it looks like you got the cat, but you're not eating the salamander.  Too many against you for that_.//

Things were near impossible now; too many variables, too many possibilities.  All his careful work down the drain just because—

Naruto bit the thought off.  

Don't take it lying down.  Don't take it _all_…But if you can't fight back or run away, take it standing up, not lying down.

Naruto nodded enough to tell his spies they were dismissed, his face blank, before clasping his hands together, stretching high up until his vertebrae sounded with the satisfactory 'shc-lick' pop.

He was nearly fully healed, the limp from his leg gone, and his chakra returning at a slow and steady rate.  Gaara had only just been captured, and already his people were planning ways to kill him, to take his power.  The wounds were Kakashi had hit him with the iron were _not_ healing quickly.  They had started to fester unnaturally; both of them on the same leg.  They would probably leave a scar if they ever did heal.

It was the first physical scar Naruto would have in all his life.  

_//…too bad I can't get pictures of where they hang your corpse out to dry_.//

***

Gaara was, by Nature, paranoid.

As a child, Gaara had been afraid of the dark.

He had seen monsters in the closet, in the shadow of the coat rack and under the table as all children had.  But, unlike the other children with the courage to face down the darkness, whenever Gaara scrapped himself together to challenge it—

—It winked at him.  Grinned fangs.

Gaara had screamed, high and thin, fear closing his throat and choking on his own spit, his heart near exploding in his chest, a four year old seizure.  White star-spots appeared before his eyes and he lost feeling.  Blood and stomach acid poured out of his mouth.  He fainted.

It never touched him, could never physically hurt him—but then it hadn't needed to.  It could see him, he could see it, and it could follow him _anywhere_.  Maybe it couldn't touch him, and maybe it could.  Maybe it was just biding its time.  Waiting for him to turn his back, waiting for him to come to fight, to walk into it, into its mouth and then—

Then it would hurt him.  It would hurt him in ways he couldn't dream of, ways he didn't _know_!  He didn't know.  He didn't know _how_.  And everything he imagined…never came close, to how it would hurt him.  It would be _more_.  It would always be more.

It would take all the pain and suffering and all the darkness and silence it would take the damned silence and multiply it sevenfold and _shove it_ down and down into him until he _wasn't_ anymore!  

Until he wasn't Gaara.  Until he was just the pain.

He was alone.  He was always alone, wherever he went.  He walked in a silent dark void; blind, deaf, and numb, with only the fanged smile and laughing malicious darkness in his head.

He was always alone.

It would hurt him.  It would never _stop_ hurting him.  It never stopped laughing.  Smiling at him, this thing in the shadows of the table legs.

Yashamura couldn't chase it away; she couldn't see it, didn't believe in it.  Didn't believe _him_.  Gaara was unstable, fragile, and very, very powerful.  Stress was apart of his foundation; it was simply her job to keep him from tipping over.

The sand couldn't touch it.

He had no protection from it, this thing that lurked in the darkness.  He had no reprieve.  It didn't matter if he started screaming in the middle of the room when the light stopped, or if he sat very still, or closed his eyes and pretended he wasn't there, the sand cocooned protectively around him.

Gaara stopped sleeping.

Terror in the night.

Bump.  Thump.  Thump.  Thump.

There was no sanctuary.  There was no reprieve.  There was fear.  Mind numbing heart stopping fear, saliva and sweat oozing from every pore of his body fear, shaking harder than a drug abuser on withdrawal fear.  Shaking so hard there was physical pain, arthritic damage.  Panic attacks.  Heart attacks.  Seizure attacks.

There was darkness eternal, unshakable.  Unbeatable, untouchable.  

There was hatred.  There was hatred always, but hatred made him feel alive.  Hatred was something scalding and violent, bright red angry energy.

Hatred cleansed him, hatred replaced.

The frozen stillness, dead darkness.  

Grinning fangs silent.

Gaara welcomed hatred.  He feared the darkness.  He ignored the shame, the guilt.  

He was supposed to be alive like this; he wasn't supposed to be.  Not like this.  He was unnatural.  There was no place for him anywhere he went.  He didn't belong.  There was nothing he could do about it, nowhere he could go.  Endure.  That was it.  Endure, and watch life from the icy glass house he lived in.  Don't live.  Just watch.  Don't live.  Stuck in limbo, drifting, not here or there, drifting without an anchor on the sea.  Stuck in limbo.  Don't belong anywhere.

But all of that was small beside the fear.

Besides the dark.

Then Naruto came into his life.

Again.

The first time had been a shock: contemptible, amusing, then terrifying and finally a revelation.  

Naruto was the key.  Naruto was a secret.  Naruto was his light twin.  Suddenly, Gaara was not alone in the day.  Naruto was there.  Not friends, never friends, but he was still there.  

//_Not alone?  Please?  Not alone…not anymore.  I can't…kill me, please?  Not alone?_//

Naruto was there.  Naruto hated him.  

The candle flickered.

The shadows danced; laughed at him and spit at him.  

Naruto was going to let him die.

The darkness was going to come back to him.  And this time it wasn't going to go away.

Gaara's muscles twitched.  Pain gripped him.

***

Naruto leaned against the railings and stared out across the dead woods.  

Despite the obvious facts, the fortress-castle was not created by him, nor belonged to him.  In fact, he hadn't even known of it until Nine Tails had whispered it to him in dreams, where it was and how to get there, of what was inside.  What was inside was a lot of dust, a lot of stone, a lot and even more darkness, and hidden away a lot of gold.  A damn lot of gold, jewels, and antique weapons all stored away underground behind thick stone.  Treasure that could easily be turned into willing employees, plumbing, and information.  

Nine Tails had been here, in her early days as a fox spirit, stealing treasure from the Western lords, and was later caught and hurt for it.  She later destroyed the people who had hurt her.  

Nine Tails had a very simple outlook on life: Take what you need, destroy what can hurt you.  Run.  Keep living.  Above all else, keep living.

It was through Nine Tails' guidance and instincts that had led Naruto almost magically to power and influence, had kept him from being killed in battle and petty attempts of assassination.  

She was burning darkly for blood always, yet had found strange, intoxicating human pleasure in making the victims suffer first.  That was discovered in her time trapped in Naruto, watching him work and how he made others suffer, embarrassed by his pranks, feeling him hurt without a wound on his skin.  She learned patience, a strange quality in a demon.  

Cunning, strength, and savagery—but patience was something strange to her.  Something very new.  And very rewarding.

She wanted her keepers, her trappers, the village people killed _now_!  …But for pleasure, for indulgence, she had learned to wait.  She wanted Gaara dead, because he had hurt her, hurt her through Naruto.  

It was one of the rare times the two souls had conflicted.

The merger between the two was nearly complete; at first there had been a clear distinction between what was Naruto thoughts and what were her thoughts, but during the time spent on his own—alone—away from the village, the two voices and blended and nearly combined.  It was getting harder to tell where Naruto began and Nine Tails ended.

Nine Tails instinct would have killed Gaara there, and could not understand any of Naruto's pleads and reasoning even though she tried.  Naruto had felt her try.  He had felt her cold confusion, felt it mirror his own, but just as she instinctively wanted to kill Gaara, Naruto instinctively wanted to save him.  And neither really could explain it out.

||Why||

Naruto smiled softly, sadly.  

"Because I need him."

Although, by rights, Gaara should die.  He had hurt Naruto liked neither had ever really planned.  If Gaara died, Naruto honestly wouldn't mind too much.  

||Not anymore  Have what needed   No trust||

Naruto grinned widely, shielding nothing, allowing the darkness and light and love and fear to pass openly before her eyes.  He could never lie to her.  It was harder than lying to himself.  

She rarely shared personal things, her memories; she kept them locked up and Naruto rarely knew _exactly_ how she felt.  Her knowledge was shared and mixed with his often, but never too clearly, always in unexpected bursts of epiphany.  Naruto was under the vague impression that she was forgetting her past.  She was slowly…not _dying_, but fading certainly, inside of him.  Slowly, but it was happening.  Slowly, her knowledge and life was being added to his.

Earlier, he had an idea of her emotions, yes, but not in the exact terms she could read him.  He knew she had felt his occasional fear about her, about her mind and powers.  

Nine Tails resented being in a human body, and Naruto resented being hated in her place.

She had known exactly what he thought of her before she had allowed the merger to commence.  Naruto had known exactly what she thought of him.  

Yet she had never hurt him.  Never cursed him.  Never hated him, though once she used to resent his body being her cage.  She still did.  Yet it had been understood that she didn't blame Naruto for creating her shell.  She had never hated the human child that the Hokage had imprisoned her in.

She hated the Hokage.

As Nine Tails had whispered to him softly, while he was crying in the dark after leaving the village, alone and deathly afraid not of what lurked in the shadows, but what lurked in his mind, that this was the way things were.  Naruto was apart of her now.  And she was apart of Naruto.  Both lived at the same time.  Both felt the same hunger, pain, urges, desires.  The more complex feelings Nine Tails didn't feel and rarely understood, such as sadism and obsession, but they shared the physical.  

She could never be free of Naruto.  Naruto could never be free of her.  She couldn't dominate his soul, his mind, not completely.  Not forever.  She couldn't kill him.  And later, she hadn't wanted to.  That wasn't understood, but it was definite thing.  He was the closest thing to a kit that she would ever have.

Naruto wouldn't kill her, he _couldn't_ kill her, not the voice inside his head, not the power that flowed through him and kept him alive.  

He hadn't known about her for the majority of his adolescent life, yet he could always sense there was something else there, someone else inside his head in the same way people sense spirits or ghosts or angels.  Yet Naruto's had been right there in his head.  Naruto's spirit was definitely real.

"He never really could be trusted darling."

||Not attacked before—afraid  Angry now, not controllable||

Yes, that was probably right.  Gaara had allowed things to flow, things had been flowing pretty smoothly, and then he had the nerve to openly attack Sakura and Sasuke and Naruto himself, and hadn't even bothered to hide what had happened.  And then the idiot had to let himself be captured!  If he came back…Gaara was a sore loser; he wouldn't forget.  First time was all the warning he ever gave.

||Why bother||

Nine Tail's voice was confused, unsure.  Not concerned, distant, but vaguely interested.  Naruto started to form an answer, stopped, and leaned his mouth against his fists propped on his elbows, and answered honestly.

"I don't know."

He could feel Nine Tails wondering at that, trying to look at it and take it apart like a trick, like an illusion, but it was an honest answer.  He didn't know.  He had no idea why, but he had to get Gaara out of there.  

Gaara was still vaguely useful, a powerful if loose cannon that _could_ be directed in the right direction.  Whether or not he was worth the effort was another matter.  And he had killed Sakura.  He—

Naruto felt…bad, about that.  Bad, but what really hurt was that he only felt _slight _grief.  He had killed Sakura, but it hadn't been _Naruto's_ Sakura.  Not the little girl dressed up in pink.  It had been an older woman, mature.  Naruto hadn't seen her in so long, in some seven odd years.  He had remembered her, of course.  But when she had been there, he didn't dare even go near her.  It had hurt to look at her.  

Naruto felt shame, guilt, for not feeling enough grief.  It was irrational.  But it was true.

And, irrationally again, Naruto knew Gaara deserved it, he knew Gaara had betrayed him and finally gone too far with his bloodlust and be of no further use to him anymore.  He knew Gaara still had the power to take his empire apart.  He knew Gaara knew him well, _too_ well, and the cold-blooded killer would use every advantage against him.

And yet the memory kept coming back, of them of them on the ground, his hand on Gaara's neck, for once physically smaller than Naruto in his half-fox form, pressing small hopeless kisses along his stunned cheek, never on his mouth, never on his neck.  Never meeting his eyes after that…of them hiding together…of leaving him there, while he, Naruto, ran.

…

What the hell was that?  It didn't make any sense.  It didn't…

Damn it Gaara.

What the hell was that?

Naruto acted the fool, but then he acted many things.  In the end he was just Naruto.

"I need him."

||Why||

Demanding an answer now.  No running, no excuses—they weren't even an option.

Naruto took a deep breath, opened his mind, and plunged in.  Thoughts ran through his head that Nine Tails could read as well.  He didn't try to stop her.

_//Because I need someone to talk to.  Because I need someone who's human.  Because I need someone who reminds me *I'm* still human.  Because I want a friend.  Because I began to like him.  Because I've betrayed too many already.  Because I like him.  Because I don't want to lose him.//_

Nine Tails was quiet.  Naruto closed his eyes and swam deeper.

_//Because they shouldn't have a right to hurt him.  Because he was trying to save me in the end.  Because they shouldn't hurt anyone anymore.  Because he's a demon like me.  Because he's alone like me.  Be—//_

Naruto's thoughts took a dangerous dive.

_//Because he's what I could have been.  He's what I can become.  Alone, cold, afraid of everyone and always hating myself, hating life.  Because as long as he's there to do it I know what *not* to do…I can still be me.  If he's not there, if I don't have a measure, I could _become_ Gaara.  I don't want to **be** Gaara.  I can't let him win.  I can't let him go so easily.//_

_//I need him to fall for me.  I need him to be there at the bottom of hell.  If I fall, if I ever fall and stop being human, stop being Naruto completely, he'll be waiting for me there at the bottom.  I need someone to be waiting for me, even if it is in hell.//_

_//I hate being alone…//_

_//It doesn't matter if he hates me.  It doesn't matter if he likes me.  We're two of a kind.  We're the only ones *of* our kind.  I need him.  I need him to keep me from truly being all alone.  From really being one of a kind.  I don't want to be one of a kind.  I need someone there with me.  Gaara has to stay here with me.//_

Naruto laughed quick in his throat, and kept his eyes closed.  "Selfish, isn't it."

Nine Tails was still.  He couldn't feel how she felt about his admission.  What her reaction was.  He could feel his own though.  Guilt.  He felt a little guilty, he felt very alone, cold, but also a little bitter, and a little angry.  But she could feel it too.  So hopefully, she wouldn't take offense.

||Sasuke||

"What about Sasuke?  He's pissed beyond all heaven at me…Geez, they all are, now that they know who I am."

||Not important  Sasuke  Could be Gaara||

Naruto's eyes snapped open.  Several things ran through Naruto's mind.  He wasn't even able to identify them; they came as quick at light and invisible as air.

"No he couldn't," Naruto said quickly.  "That'd be terrible.  He couldn't be Gaara in a million years…"

Could he? 

//_Sasuke?//_

…No, no he couldn't.  Despite the anger and hatred in him, the jealousy and fear, despite the fact that Sasuke had all right ingredients to be real bastard beyond bastards, Naruto believed that at the core he was a decent kind of guy.  Sasuke could forget that decency at times, but it was still there, buried.  Naruto honestly wasn't sure if Gaara had any decency in him at all.  He had some innocence in him, but then nearly everybody Naruto knew had _some_ innocence in them somewhere about something.  Even Nine Tails.  

And if Sasuke ever did take the plunge, really go insane and dark, then he could quite possibly…be worse than Gaara.  

Be much, much worse than Gaara.  

Gaara had needs, few and vague though they were, but Gaara still had needs and weaknesses.  Naruto knew Sasuke well enough to know that once he got an objective in his head, he would enthusiastically stab himself in the heart if he thought it would help him.  

Sasuke was far too obsessive, too fanatical, when something finally caught his interest.  Naruto had watched him chase Itachi.  His ambition made him blind, even to his own pain and death, dead to the people around him, and gave him a will that was inhumanely unstoppable.  Gaara was nearly the same, but he couldn't afford to be that blind.  His demon would consume him totally if he ever did, and Gaara would die.  Only Shukaku would be left.

Nine Tails knew all this, felt it go through their joined minds at the same time.  It was always a slight surprise that even without the seal, she hadn't tried to consume him.  Perhaps because she was slightly more stable than Shukaku.  Perhaps because she was smarter, or simply lazier.  Perhaps because Naruto was doing what she wanted.

Mostly because the merger between Nine Tails and Naruto was becoming so fine-tuned they couldn't tell each other apart anymore; their personalities were dissolving into one another by the hour.

||Be your Gaara||

Naruto frowned.  

"What do you mean?"

||Not one of a kind  Sasuke is full human more human than Gaara  He will stop loneliness  You like him  Easier to control  Too weak to hurt  Gaara will  Closer||

Naruto puzzled.  And then felt a sort of embarrassed pink horror.  And gulped.  And thought how oddly Nine Tails sometimes thought like a mom.  A homicidal vicious mom, but a mom nonetheless.  

Since Sasuke was physically, mentally, weaker, he made a better companion than Gaara.  Okay.  Thank you.  It's a bit more complex than that, but he wasn't sure _how_ exactly, so he couldn't explain.  

And then there was the _type_ of companion she was hinting…A companion better than Gaara.  A companion _closer_ than Gaara.  But she didn't really mean…she didn't…And the worst part was that what Naruto was terribly embarrassed about was what she meant, because he knew—beyond a _doubt_—they _were_ thinking the exact same thing.  

He could play with Sasuke's mind.  He could play with Sasuke…He could play with a lot _more_ than just Sasuke's mind…

"That's _all_ that was, there was nothing more, so _no_, I couldn't!" he said a little hysterically, grinning and fearful.  

Nine Tails was puzzled.  He could _taste_ her puzzled-ness.

||You like him  Want him  Hunger for him||

Naruto gulped and blushed and shook his head franticly, even though there was no one to see it.  However he couldn't bring himself to argue.  He couldn't think of a decent argument.  He didn't even want to think of the issue.  Gaara was Gaara.  Gaara did Gaara's job.  Sasuke would not be _doing_ Gaara's job, and that wasn't even what she was really thinking and like hell how could he even—Sasuke hated him!  Sasuke did.  And while Gaara could be a friend…Sasuke…No.  No, no way.

||Why run  Why fear  Strong||

Oh geez, how do explain the relationship of fear and love to a creature that mates only for reproduction, and seems to love nothing.  She liked Naruto well enough, more through mutual necessity, but she didn't love him.  Didn't really seem to love anything.  Oh shit.  What to do, what to do…

||Why||

"No!  Because!  No, it's not the same, he's Sasuke and Gaara's Gaara and I'm me, and I am _sooo_ not bringing, not, not, um…" Naruto was slightly breathless, and his voice girlishly high.

||Chased him last time  Enjoyed him last time||

"That's not the point!" Naruto wailed.

||You wanted more  Take it  You have never denied yourself before  It makes you unhappy  Stop Leave Gaara  He hurts you  Take Sasuke||

He didn't _want_ Gaara the way he wanted Sasuke.  He wouldn't be able to have Sasuke close to him without…without…

Without really screwing something up.

"Darling I can't do that.  I won't do that.  I mean, it's just that…Sasuke would hate me more.  And um," Naruto closed his eyes and plunged on.  

"He won't…give me everything I want.  And I can't stop half-way with something like this, and I _will_ want more than I can take.  If I, if I, if I do like you're saying Sasuke—Sasuke could really hurt me.  Not, physically, not really.  Not mentally, probably, either, but…But he could hurt me.  Like…Like the villagers did.  And I don't think I—No.  I'm sorry.  I'd…"

Naruto trailed off and wandered around the balcony quickly before returning to his spot.  

"I'd love to.  I would.  If I thought he'd let me,"

||Make him let||

"There's no way to do that!" Naruto grinned madly, and scrubbed his eyes with his palms.  "There's no _sure_ way to do that.  I can't…I can't…" Naruto looked away, to the railing, studying the little shifts in the stone and the layers of rainwater residue on top.  

"I'm sorry.  I want to.  But I can't."

Nine Tails tried to absorb this. 

Everything made sense.  Naruto was fighting himself, which she couldn't understand.  He wanted it, but he didn't want it.  He could do it, he wanted to do it, but he wasn't going to try.  There was some fear involved, but it was shadowy, unfocused.  It was a paradox.  An emotional paradox.  Naruto had a better answer, she could vaguely make it out, but even though it was more sophisticated and a little clearer, it still didn't make any sense.  She tried a card.

||I like Sasuke||

She disliked Sasuke, actually.  He made her uneasy, make the dark energy in Naruto's gut bobble and light, made his stomach uneasy just by glancing at him sideways.  But she felt the same magnetic pull, the same deadly attraction to his flame.  The frown eased away from Naruto's face instantly, as did the worry anxiety and confusion in his mind.  Naruto smiled.

"I like him too…I just wished he liked me."

_//But he won't now.  Not after this.  Not after everything.  And especially not after what comes next.//_

||Get Sasuke  Bring him here||

"Planning something, are you?" Naruto joked slyly.  

It was sweet to watch her try to manipulate human emotions.  Energy, space, and mental illusions and attacks were a piece of cake for her.  She just couldn't figure out the human heart.

||Want him here  Me  What you do with Gaara you do with Gaara  Want Sasuke||

Naruto raised his eyebrows, surprised.  She had yielded.  Or maybe not really yielded so much as made a compromise.  He didn't think she could compromise.  And she wanted Sasuke.  Why did she want Sasuke?

"All right darling.  I'll see what I can do, all right?"

||Like Sasuke  Want Sasuke  Gaara your problem||

Naruto grinned softly.

***

Gaara's breathing was getting worse.  He wasn't healing fast enough, and his wounds were infected, bruises and markings turning a dark plum and black color, pale where the pus grew.  He wasn't cared for partly because no one wanted to or saw prudence doing so, and partly because he would have killed anyone who tried to touch him.

The bolt on the outside door slid open, and Sasuke stepped into the room.  He stood in between the two guards for roughly 10 seconds, before walking forward to stand right outside the salt-circle.  His eyes raked over the salt on the floor, over the air above it.  Silently, he sniffed the air.

He let the silence stretch for some time while he studied the tableau in front of him.  

Something shifted.  

"Don't you ever get tired of waiting for the impossible?"

"You know how shinobi work, even demonic ones.  If you fall behind, you stay behind.  If anyone one does come, it's to kill you."

"Makes everything rather simple."

"Simplicity is the foundation for perplexity."

"I've been doing some thinking, since you've been here.  I've decided something."

"I don't want you dead.  But 'want' and 'is' are two very different things.  No one can save a demon."

"The only one you can rely on…is yourself.  Gaara.  Who loves only himself.  Only Gaara can save Gaara."

Sasuke seemed to melt backwards and appear between the guards without motion, his back to Gaara.  Again, he stood there silently not moving, just waiting.  Again, something shifted—but this time it didn't move back.  

His fingers lightly touched the right guard on his neck, who seemed to slump.  His fingers touched left guard on his sleeved arm.  The shinobi moved slightly, and stepped forward a little.  

"But I can still show you the door."

Nearly staggering, the shinobi moved forward clumsily, his bare feet mussing up the salt on the floor, and digging a key out of his pocket to slide it into the iron lock.  The door swung open.

Gaara tackled him, snagged his knife, and turned his eyes to Sasuke.

A few seconds later, Gaara's face was smashed into the floor, Sasuke kneeling on him and pinning his arms to his back.  Gaara heard a hiss, then winced as the prayer bead necklace was ripped from his neck.  He started to get up, but fell down again as fingers pressed against his temple and he fell asleep.

Sasuke grinned brightly.  

The standing shinobi crawled forward when Sasuke stared at him, fumbled in his pockets slowly and produced a key, taking off Gaara's manacles from his arms and left leg. 

The smile slipped from Sasuke's as he stood and again touched the guard on the neck.  This one collapsed to the floor.

He hefted Gaara's body over his shoulder, walked out, and slid the bolt locked on the door.

***

We should have killed him when we had the chance.

--Konoha ninja, _Naruto_ vol.1
    
    Loooosers!!  Wanna-be's!  You don't have what it takes to do something this low!  I rule, and you drool!

--Naruto, _Naruto_ vol.1

But when you're falling off the cliff, it's too late to wonder if there might have been a better way up the mountain…

-_Night Watch_, Terry Prattchet

***

Naruto knelt on the floor, one knee propping up one elbow, hands folded into the familiar standard jutsu symbol in front of him.  He closed his eyes.

Some things got easier with time, but then again some things didn't.

The atmosphere around him was still, and solemn.  Naruto seemed to be praying or in some severe meditation, he was concentrating so hard.  The air was still, dark, and there was the faint impression that he wasn't really there.  The impression seemed foggy, uncertain, like a dream—trying to be in a hundred places at once.

First time was the hardest.  Everything after that was a matter of logic.

Thumping pumping…electrical impulses…see what you believe…

The air was a mesh of live wire electricity, slight small static too fine to be picked up with mechanical equipment, far too fine.  But there were other ways to skin a cat.  And mechanical equipment wouldn't be able to infiltrate the mesh, wouldn't be able to get inside it…wouldn't be able to make dance.  Make it knot.

Sensitivity and power.  A formidable combination with little middle ground.  Pain.

Make it work.  It doesn't work.  Make it work, it has to work.  Failure if it doesn't work, death if it doesn't work, game over, do not pass go, do not collect, no memory no honor no satisfaction.  You don't deserve to be.  Make it work.  Failure.  Make it work.  Make it work.  

…In.  Good.  Running through it…there's so _many_, so very many, can it really be done with so many?…running through it…There.  

//_In the core_.//  

It's too wide.  There's too much of it.  Too much diversity, to widely spread, too many voices, too many minds.  Can't Borrow them all, can't knot them all…

…So don't.

Knot the mesh.

It's all interconnected, it's all community.  It's a society, a dependent group of minds working together.  Take the mass; knot it.  Chain reaction.  

Eyes.

***

Eyes were on him.

Four sets, two people, calling silently for help, uneasy and angry, the same familiar hate as familiar as his old set of aviation goggles he had carried around his neck everywhere until he got his hitae headband.  The goggles made him think he was flying away, far, far away from this place and this world.  

Nobody could see him cry with his goggles covering his eyes*.  

They had been his defense and escape.  Then the ninja status had replaced them.

He had let go of his defense and escape in exchange for the promise of strength and respect shinobi status offered.  The promise had fallen through.  

Childhood memories.

They were armed, and they thought they recognized the kid, felt mild apprehension and attentiveness, but it was all sort of overlapped by subtle reluctance and incredulousness.  Had they looked to see what was _between_ his palms, they would have been surprised to see blood.  Naruto was reckless, but at this stage he hadn't wanted to take too many chances.  

It was a vaguely good thing that he had never been real close to this Hokage, this Tsunade-sama.  She was kind to him while he knew her, as it happened, but then so were many people who had hurt him.  Like Mizuki-sensei.  Like the other teachers, the other children, so long…

Apathy was its own crime.  

By not doing anything, it was easy to kill so many.  Passive, peaceful, blind apathy that didn't make anyone worried or stand out in any way.  It was so easy to be hurt simply because people didn't care enough to force others to stop.  

Forcing people to stop would have been a break of their civil rights, and a crime of throwing the demon boy's laundry out into the alley or laughing at him or beating him up was just—childish pranks.  Born stupidity.  Forcing them to stop wouldn't actually _make_ them acknowledge Naruto's existence as a human being; it would only make them sullen.  Make him a bigger target.  

People need to learn life by themselves, because no one can force them to be decent people.  Otherwise you're just another tyrant, another bully.  They would learn.  They _would_ learn.  He could prove them wrong.  He was strong, and he was a _good person_.  He _could_ prove them wrong.

But then…

Why should he?

What right did they have to see the real him?

What had they done, to earn his tolerance?

Why should he have to be patient if he was the good guy and they were the bullies?

Why did he always have to turn the other cheek?

How come he could never lose his temper?

…Because he was Naruto?  Because of Nine Tails' power?

But if he had Nine Tails' power, had the demon's chakra and cunning and malicious nature intertwined with his…

If he was going to do the time…

…Why not do the crime?

Why not make them pay?  

Why?

For Iruka's sake?  Because Iruka-sensei didn't want him to?  For Sakura's sake?  Sasuke's?  Simply because they were idiots, because they were bullies who hadn't been raised to know any better?

…no one had raised him to know any better either.  Had they?  No, they hadn't…

He didn't want to hurt Iruka, nor Sasuke.  He didn't want to hurt Kakashi either, or pervert-sennin, and he had tried to twist events and minds so that they were as far away as possible.  He knew where Iruka was now, had isolated him from the group and the knot, made sure he wouldn't be hurt personally.  Pervert-sennin was far away on a mission, Sasuke was out cold far off in the woods in his people's care, and Kakashi…

Well, he would deal with Kakashi carefully when the time came to it.  He couldn't get him to leave the village like Pervert-sennin, and he was afraid to fight him.  He doubted he could trick him, and doubted he could really win without killing him. 

The villagers had always hated the demon, feared it.  But Naruto had seen the real enemy, and had hated that deeply instead.

Apathy.

Apathy was the enemy.  That was the crime.  Nine Tails hadn't cared about the villagers when she had first attacked.  She had just wanted them dead.  The villagers hadn't cared about Naruto while he was growing up.  They had just wanted him dead.  They hadn't cared.  

Nobody cared.  People got hurt.  Nobody cared.

_Nobody I knew.  Why should I care?_

Naruto cared.  That was part of his problem.  

He was sentimental, and he treasured his possessions too deeply, with all his heart because he had so much to give.  Because he had no one to love for so long, he gave all his heart to his dream desperately.  And his dream had been hurt.  His dream had been killed.  He had watched it being torn apart, thrown in the shit, and had been laughed at for even _having_ it.  For even mourning it.  

Naruto would never be normal.  Naruto would never be accepted.  Naruto was _cursed_ until the day he _died _and longer, and nothing he did, _nothing he ever did_, could _ever_ _make_ him stop _being_ what he was.  It was _because_ of what he was that they hated him.  It didn't matter how he acted, what he did really.  It was because of _what he was_.  Not because he was Naruto.  Because he wasn't human.  Not Naruto.  Not human.

And there was nothing on earth that could make him stop being what he was.  

Naruto gave all his heart to anger, to this new dream of equality, of final justice and Darwin nature, and let that flow through him.

Nobody cared.  People died.  He died.  Nobody cared.

So Naruto was going to _make_ them care.  Naruto was going to fight the apathy, the way he and Nine Tails both wanted.  He was going to make them care about him and see him, even if they only cared because they hated him, because they envied his power, wondered at it.  But they would care.  He would make them care.  And then he would make them die.  

But the two shinobi watching him from up above on the rooftop, Chunnin level, didn't know that.  They only knew that Nine Tails had left her mark, and the demon fight that had been reported back rumored of huge chakra and extravagant, deadly attacks.  They only knew that demons were dangerous, and rare, and not quite the fairy tale creatures most people thought them to be.

But an unarmed teenager kneeling—apparently praying or meditating—in a central alley did not fit with the imagery.  

Still, they were ninja.  They were trained to see through deceit; they had seen too many comrades killed by harmless men on their knees.  Usually on their knees.  Sometimes they were lying on their back when wind speared through the skull.  

They stayed on guard.

"Intruder.  Corner of Hayashi,…"

***

Naruto grew up.  They were probably all worrying why the Ramen Boy had suddenly gone psycho, where had old familiar baka gone.  

Naruto grew up.  And that was the problem with growing up.  It made you colder, made you meaner.  You weren't as innocent as you once were, and you were selfish because no one would tell you couldn't be.  

No, wait, that was wrong.  

You were selfish because people _expected_ you to be.  Because it was a dog eat dog world.  It was in the Rules.  And Naruto had learned that.  He had really learned that.

Foxy had the sharpest teeth like you never seen.

//_Watch out teacher; I've grown up big and strong_.//

***

See the knot.

Here we are now.  

It's in place.  He's in place.  I'm in place.  

He's gone.  I'm ready.

Let it rip.

Flash.

***

See the knot.

See it glitter, this knot of paper-thin silver threads, each one a multicolored mind moving and thinking, webbed out over the village.  Minds aren't separate things, not in a community this small.  Thoughts tend to leak over into each other by association.  No one truly owns his or her own mind.  

They share them, on a very small impersonal scale, mix and match ideas.  They carry each other around in their head, wondering what to get them for birthdays, what they had meant when they said that, how she had gotten his phone number—that sort of thing.  Picturing their daughters in their minds.  Wondering what their dads were doing right now.  Hoping their friends would let them borrow some lunch.  

See the knot.

Now they were all thinking a little harder about each other, because they are made to.  A little stronger.   A little more often.

See the knot.

That's their minds.  That's their minds thinking.  And since their thinking more, it's easier to see, easier to touch.  Easier to mold.  

Now.

See the knot.

Take the knot.

Rip it apart.

***

There should have been screams.  

There really should have been some screams, Naruto couldn't help thinking.  After all that preparation, after all that careful, meticulous work, so very delicate and nearly impossible work.  After all that damage he knew he had done, all the death he knew had been caused just now.  There should have been screams or explosions or fireworks or something.  Sirens at least.

It was all rather quiet.  

Roughly more than half of the village had just suffered immediate brain failure, and most of the rest had experienced immediate cardiac arrest.  Like tumors growing in their brains, something had suddenly caused the gray matter to go _splat_!  Most of them probably had no idea it had happened or that they had even died.  But they had.  They were dead.  There was a big silence in Naruto's head, in his ears, where their voices had spoken static.  How many?  Three hundred?  A thousand?  More?  How many died in a single attack?

Who cared?

Naruto opened his eyes.

He hit the ground.

Buried into his jacket, three kunai vibrated with impact.

His eyes darted up, and he skittered backwards and to the side, seeking cover against the wall before getting out of there.

Of course, his attack only worked if one didn't know how to guard one's mind against foreign agents.  Only worked if one couldn't tell that something was off with their head, that someone else was inside it.  Only worked with one really trusted their intuition, trusted themselves.

People like that are a small number.  But in a shinobi village, it was a large number compared to the whole.  

Naruto pulled two kunai out, standing and sliding into the shadows, while a copy silently slipped though a window at blinking speeds.  

He was hit in his shoulder before he threw them, fell hard to the ground and disappeared in a poof of smoke, a smoking log in the middle of it, thunking to the concrete flooring.  A few seconds later the illusion broke, and Naruto again lay limply on the ground, eyes closed.

::_Let him go **now**_!:: 

He continued to lie on the ground, eyes closed as if dead, and his shoulder bleeding slightly.  He hadn't dared dodge the attack even slightly; it would have ruined the illusion.  Since when would a substitute doppelganger care about getting hit?  Naruto waited.

There.  A slow increase of energy to the southeast.  Naruto sent it a little mental nudge, just enough to tell Gaara he was near, and that he was watching him.

The energy exploded.

It was frantic and high and feverish.  If that didn't get everyone's attention, he didn't know what would.  The sky over the south became hazy with dust, turning the sun a gritty color.  You would have to be blind not to feel that chakra, dark and panicky and hurt, and all the angrier because of it.  

Gaara _might_ live through it, but it was just possible he would not.  His wounds had been horrible, and the amount and rate of energy he was expending right now would take him out easy if he wasn't careful.  

But it would be enough for a distraction.  

And Gaara had _some_ protection—provided he didn't do anything stupid like kill them on accident.  Knowing Gaara as Naruto did, he just might do that…

Time for the real work to begin.

Naruto sent his mind out, skimmed around, and found that most of his doppelgangers had been discovered and taken care of.  So here was the real work.  Here was the real challenge.

The knot was destroyed, exploded, gone.  The remaining threads on peripheral vision weren't bright or obvious enough to tie together and yank in one pull, but they _were_ active and observant enough that he could send them little messages easily, little messages that they would think they were seeing themselves.

He could pick at their control, make them _see_ all of the sleeping cold people around at their feet, make them _feel_ their responses to it.  He didn't let them ignore anything.  He picked at their control, at the cold professionalism, picked and picked at it until he created a crack wide enough to wiggle through.  He made them see all as they were supposed to, made them feel it like they were already fighting not to.  He was just helping their instincts push open the door.

Some of them fled.  They were caught.

Bring on the haze.  

They could feel the chakra, the ancient evil energy, malicious and potent and hateful, south in the forest, south in the village.  They knew it would come for them, for entrapping it.  The older ones remembered Nine Tails, what hell it had been fighting that demon and losing, fighting that demon until finally Hokage had trapped it in that child.  They remembered the fear, and the pain.  The people who died.  They remembered the fire.

Dark indigo gray blue misty haze, like the haze over the sun, like the haze in their minds, so heavy and bulky it was hard to move with it inside their skulls.  Brains were such useless things, didn't do anything right.  The darkness lived inside your head.  The darkness didn't live in the closet or in blue eyes, the darkness _lived inside your own *head*._

Loud, maniac laughter filled their ears, bone marrow chilling and so _selfish_.  A man screamed suddenly in shock as his body rebelled against him, his arm snapping so far back it broke the bone.  The muscles didn't obey, the body seemed to go into seizures or arrests, flailing so hard that the bones broke and arteries bursts so people actually _drowned_ in their _own blood_!  In their own fluids!  

Naruto cracked up and laughed like mad!  He was near doubling over, leaning against the wall as the laughter and strain took him, laughing and laughing so damn _hard_!

Hearts began to pump even quicker, urged on by the adrenalin and hormones that _they were making themselves_!  They wanted to find him so hard, so very badly that they were stopping their own blessed _hearts_ with the effort!  They were giving themselves heart attacks!  All by themselves!  It was so _funny!!!_

All Naruto really had to do was push them a little.  Break down the composure, the little flimsy toy wall of control they built up.  

They had suffered so many losses in so little time.  They had lost men.  They _still_ weren't sure what they were fighting!  Two whole ninja tribes wiped _out_!  They couldn't see right, couldn't walk right—a whole lot of them couldn't even _breathe_.  

The pride of Konohakagure, leveled because everyone was so afraid to go into his or her own minds.  Terrified to have somebody _else_ in there, looking at all their _dirty_ little secrets, throwing them and plastering them in their faces.

Look who raped their girlfriend when she wouldn't say yes.  Look who cheated on the test even though they weren't supposed to.  Look who rigged the test, because he didn't want his rival to get too far a head of him.  Because he was jealous.  

::_Look at your dead mom, killed because you weren't there to protect her.  Because you were selfish.  Look how pale she looks, how bloated.  Disgusting, looks like something out of the freezer.  Look at the little kid you killed, assassinated, because it was your **job**, because he was born into the wrong family.  Was your reputation worth the kid's life?  Does that money taste good in your mouth?::_

::_Was it worth his life?::_

_::Is it worth yours?::_

::_Look at all the ones you left behind.  All the ones you failed.  You failed them, failed your village, because you weren't good enough.  Weren't skilled enough.  Because you cared more about yourself than you did about them.  Because they had good hearts, so they had to die.  You lived.  What's that make you, buddy?  What's that make you?::_

::_You bastard.  Hear them scream.  Hear them call.  Retrieve their bodies, see their slack mouths and cold skin, and don't you dare cry for them.  You don't deserve to.  You worthless piece of shit.  You don't deserve to at all.::_

::_They died.  You survived_.::

::_You bastard.  You should have died with them_.::

::_Look at their eyes.  Remember when they were alive?  How you laughed together, pushed each other around just to feel skin against skin.  Just to know you weren't alone?  That you were alive?  Look at their eyes.  See their dead eyes looking back at you.  See the dead looking at you, see the dead ***seeing*** you.  Feels good, doesn't it?  Taste their still blood, their cold sweat.  Eat them up.  They were stronger than you, that's how they could die while you lived.  You need their strength, to become better.  Take their strength, eat their strength, eat their flesh.  Become strong.  Become better_.::

::_Become better.  That's all that matters now, you worthless piece of shit.  Become better, if you dare.  Eat them, if you've got the stomach for it.  If you've got the courage for it.  You don't have it, do you?  You're still so damn **weak**, despicably weak.  You don't deserve to live.  You don't deserve to live while they died.  You contaminate everyone you touch with your weakness.  You're killing your children, the children of the future.  You bastard.  You're killing the future with all your stupidity, all your incompetence_.::

::_You weak bastard.  Look what you've done.  Look how many you've killed.  Look how many have died, while ***you*** lived_.::

::_Here's your chance, sonny-Jim.  Here's your chance, honey.  Do the right thing.  Do the brave thing.  Join them.  You don't deserve to live; you never did.  You let them die, you let them ***down***!  You failed.  The weak don't live.  Do the right thing.  Take the knife.  Do the right thing.  Take the knife and do the goddamned right thing for once, you motherfucker.  Do the right thing.  The only right thing, you've ever done in your whole life_.::

::_Do the last thing you'll ever do in your life.  Do the right thing.  Do the last right thing_.::

::_Do it.  Do it now_.::

Wild golden savage laughter pealed through the streets, stampeded through the houses with their closed windows where the secrets were kept, tore through the souls and commercial avenues.  Tore through it all and more, this wild golden vicious laughter.  Tore through it all.

::_Do it **now!**_::

Dust and sand covered the sun, slowly turned the noon day to summer's twilight.  Darkness falls.

 This was so _EASY_!!!

Slowly, Naruto began to change.  His body became taller, longer, and more muscled while still incredibly flexible.  The world around him began to change, the colors becoming uniform like really bad color television that still looks like black-and-white TV, but everything was also clearer.  He could look into shadows and see everything down to microscopic detail.  His hearing tuned to his own heartbeat, the wind rushing wildly to the north, and his sense of smell was _outrageous_.  As was his teeth.  And his claws.  

Naruto concentrated on the buildings on the other side of the street from his spot in the alley.  He jerked one hand swiftly to the side, then grinned loudly when _both_ sides of the street suddenly caught fire!  

Not 'caught fire' as in smoke started trickling out, but 'caught fire' as in the glass flew out and shattered, that pieces of stucco and wood exploded outwards due to the pressure, the heat enough to set skin aflame without even touching it.  Caught fire as in brilliant inflammable gasoline and natural gas raining down harder than hailstones that exploded in your face and took your head off!  Caught fire as in caught _fire_!  Not caught fire as in caught _smoke_.  

Fire whipped around his shoulders, down his fingers.  Naruto closed his eyes and swung one arm backward.  He was gratified to hear the subsequent _fwuuuumm_, and laughed madly, screeching high in throat.

::_I'm ba~ack_::

Now.

//_It's time for those screams_//

***

An irregular vibration, a confused feeling of panic woke Iruka up.  He was lying on stone, inside somewhere because he could smell the smoke heavy from the fireplace, and the back of his head and his guts ached.  His head felt sluggish, heavy, like he had been drugged.

By degrees, he sat up, and managed to get an idea of where he was.  He was not, he noticed inside.  And the fire was not coming from the fireplace.  Sluggishly, his brain tried to process the information his eyes were sending it into a logical picture.  

_//…no.  This is a nightmare…I've to be dreaming…this can't…//_

The smoke kept on getting into his nose even though he closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, nails digging into his arm to make the pain wake him up.  This couldn't be happening.  This couldn't be happening.

"Actually, it can."

The sound was a twisted grin of pig-iron.  Perverse satisfaction oozing and dripping flaunted anger.  Sounded like it was laughing.  Red-black laughter.

Iruka didn't turn around.  Didn't move or take his eyes from the sight in front of him.  No.  This wasn't real.  This couldn't be real.  No.

::_Should I fight?::_

He couldn't fight.  He couldn't even turn around.  He couldn't even speak.

_//…daddy…no…no…_//

Iruka began to shake his head slowly side to side, slowly concentrating on waking up.  This couldn't be happening.  This couldn't be happening.  

Naruto winced involuntarily.  His mind hurt so much.  Naruto swallowed.  This wasn't what he had wanted.  Damn.  His smirk slid back into place easily after a thought.  Quietly, Naruto invaded the other's mind.

By degrees, then.

When Iruka opened his eyes again, he didn't see the village he loved on fire.  He didn't smell smoke on the air when he inhaled deeply, only the faint smell of grass and wood.  He didn't feel the cold roughness of the stone of the Hokage monument cliff top.  He wasn't on a rock at all.  He was sitting on some moss, nice thick light green moss some distance away from a smooth lake, with slender beige trees all around.  

Slowly, his heartbeat began to slow down from the panic-attack state it had been in, pumping at roaring rushing speeds in his ear so fast that it had frightened him, to hear his heart going so fast.  He was sure he was going to have a heart attack.  The adrenalin was still heavy in his system, and Iruka wiped sweat from his forehead, looked at it glisten in the lazy afternoon sunshine on his sweaty palm.  He was alive.  He was alive.  God he had been so sure that—

He had been a kid again.  He had been a kid again struggling and fighting while his father and mother died fighting a demon.  

God.

Oh god.

It was…It was just a dream.  Still a dream.  He was still dreaming.  This place…this place had to be a dream.  It didn't feel like he was dreaming, but if he wasn't—

He was dreaming.  He had to be dreaming.  

Oh god.  

He was alive.  His village wasn't being hurt.  He was dreaming.  He was dreaming.

Oh god.

"…What kind of sick dream is this!"

"My kind," said a voice behind him.  Iruka's eyes widened.  He knew that voice.  Sasuke had reported back, and as a former teacher and close associate, Iruka had been questioned closely.  Very closely, and thoroughly, as had Kakashi.  But he hadn't…

Even though they told him, he hadn't believed it.  It didn't—

"It does work.  It works if you see it through.  But it does work."

Now that wasn't his voice.  Not his student's voice.  This voice was deeper, older, and completely alien to him.  But Iruka was running out of choices.  He couldn't turn his head around to look because his body was paralyzed, couldn't stand up or twist around.  It was like trying to walk through a wall.

But he could still move his eyes around, could still touch the moss and tear it out of the ground.  Could shuffle his legs.  He just couldn't turn around.  

"What's going on?"

There was no answer.  Iruka tried to call out, tried to speak his name.  He couldn't say his name, not even a little bit.  He couldn't say his name at all.  Couldn't think it.  After a while, the voice spoke again—off to his right, Iruka noticed—but didn't answer his question or come into vision.  

"I've been what people wanted for the longest time."

"I've been that damn fox Naruto.  I've been hated since before I knew life, for crimes I didn't commit, hated without knowing why.  Without even knowing _why_, Iruka-sensei."

"Don't you dare call me that," Iruka cut in angrily, the minute he had heard that name spoken.  

He still couldn't turn around.  He tried to speak—ask what was going on, why wouldn't he let Iruka see him, what was he afraid of—and found again that he couldn't speak.  The voice behind him continued smoothly like he hadn't spoken.

"You hated me too, for a time, but I can almost forgive that.  Pay back the favor, so to speak.  But the truth is, Iruka-san, that I can't forgive everyone else.  I guess I'm just not that compassionate!  I guess maybe I am a cold-blooded murderer, a real demon among demons, and the villagers…you especially Iruka-sensei, really don't deserve that.  You really don't deserve me.  You're a nice guy, I should know…and you really don't deserve to have a guy like me around.  I'd probably never be a good ninja…"

Iruka stared straight in front of him.  He didn't think this was dream anymore.  He couldn't move still, and if he concentrated hard he could…nearly imagine the smell of smoke.  Nearly.  

"So I've decided that I'm going to repay my gratitude to the people of this village, who took care of my upbringing, my development—my childhood memories, as it were, by becoming exactly what they want.  By becoming exactly what they desire.  By finally granting them that long awaited wish they've held so close to their hearts."

Pause.  

Naruto grinned widely to himself; a thin stentorian growl edged his voice. 

"And I present it to you now."

Iruka's face stayed stiff.  He could smell the smoke now, easily.  He could still see the lake in front of him, but he couldn't smell the water.  The wind on his face didn't make the water ripple or branches rattle.   He could still see the moss under his legs, but felt cold hardness under his hands.

"I am the Demon Fox creature Nine Tails.  I am Naruto Uzumaki, the Forbidden Child.  I am the Demon King of the Northern Land.  I am…the worst plague upon the earth like that which has never been seen before."

Naruto smiled widely.

"And only a few select like yourself will survive my wrath."

Naruto stood and shifted his stance, looking every inch the proud father to absolutely no one at all save himself, and stated:

"As I speak, the village town—and all her libraries and storages and hospitals—is up in flame, and the survivors are being hunted down now.  And so far…no one's come to stop me.  I think I'm a little disappointed."

Iruka felt eyes burning into the back of his neck, felt the frigid condescension with a touch of perverse sadistic enjoyment misting out rotten green from behind, the alien feelings pricking his skin like real things.

"Not everyone can be a forgiving idealist like you," Naruto said coldly.  "I know I won't do it.  I don't get anything from it.  Just pain.  Pain and stupidity, and I want more than that.  I can _get_ more than that."

Naruto smiled sweet as gently warmed honey on fresh baked bread, smooth as butter on a balmy summer's day.  You could _hear_ that smile in his voice.

"I will get more than that."

Iruka looked out of the corner of his eye, and could see while whatever he focused on was indeed the brilliant green moss and pale tree trunk, his peripheral vision only saw shades of gray.  The voice behind him came again.

"I think Gaara-san finally ran out of energy.  He's always real fun when he's angry."

Iruka seemed to fall back asleep.

***

Loooosers!!  Wanna-be's!  You don't have what it takes to do something this low!  I rule, and you drool!

--Naruto, _Naruto_ vol.1

Just because I don't care, doesn't mean I don't understand.

-Homer Simpson, _The Simpsons_

"Can you imagine if they let someone like that become a shinobi?"

-- _Naruto_ vol.?

***

Iruka found himself literally flying through the trees, not even feeling a bouncing or falling motion as he was dragged through them with the leaves lashing at his body and ascended a huge tree that from the very tips of it, where the branches were no more than a few inches thick and would barely support his weight.

He was dropped on his empty stomach on one such branch.

And for one of the few times in his career as a Gennin and Chunnin, he felt a wave of vertigo they were so damn _high_.  There could have been a small army directly beneath them and he wouldn't have known it, he wouldn't be able to make it out they were so bloody high.

He struggled and wavered, careful of the branch's strength and his own weight and by the fact that if he fell now things would become _undeniably_ interesting.  Then he glanced quickly to his right.

A second figure, slightly bigger than he, was crouched on an even _thinner_ branch than his, yet seemed absolutely confident of himself, at ease with his surroundings, and seemed to radiate power.

He wasn't sure it was Naruto.  Because, he was somewhat surer, that Naruto did _not_ have pointed ears a foot long.

The mouth of the creature was slightly open, not because he was breathing hard but mostly because he was thinking on what to say.  White pointed teeth that clicked together nicely appeared in the gap between his lips.  Three long lines leaning towards horizontal emblazoned on either cheek reaching from nearly his nose to the edge of his face.  Light blond hair fell over his face and eyes and down his back, and his eyes themselves were a murky red, bordering on purple.  

He was barely dressed, with only ragged thin shorts barely covering the essentials, showing hard muscles like river stones plated over a rangy flexible body with fingers that were long and slightly curled, with a very talon-ish feel to them.  There was something wrong with his feet, Iruka noticed.  There seemed to be two ankles…

Kakashi hadn't mentioned this.  Kakashi hadn't _seen_ this.  Only Gaara had really ever gotten a good look at Naruto's half-fox form, and this was it.  If he didn't want people to see him in it, they wouldn't.  A fox's skill of camouflage, brilliant red in a green forest.  Absolute invisibility if he wanted it.

Iruka looked terrified.

The voice was smooth, old, and just a little solemn.  

"I'm still me.  I can still talk."

Iruka's eyes went wide, then narrowed as his body coiled from its shaky spot on the branch.  The fear and shock left him, icy cool anger flooding now through his system.  

"I'm sure you'll be sorry to hear this, Iruka-san, but if this had happened twice," Naruto waved in the direction of the village, a sponge of smoke hovering above it, "I'd do it all the same way again."

The expression on the face didn't change, didn't move at all for anything.  Only the lips and assorted muscles moved to form rough cold words, but its eyes just seemed to bore into Iruka's head…

Naruto wished—for nothing.  It was done.  And nothing could change how Iruka was now looking at him.  That Look.  From Iruka.  

The maniac, perverse giddiness and ecstasy were gradually fading from the forefront, but he could tell he would be grinning mad for days after this.  He knew, beyond a doubt, that he had done the right thing.  The constant heavy fear and sorrow that he had carried like an iron yoke on his neck was finally gone, and he only felt maniac glee and obscene conceited satisfaction.  But it was fading as Iruka Looked at him.

Iruka had always been a bucket of cold water on Naruto's fun.  That hadn't changed.

It was done, and Naruto wished for nothing now.  At first it had been surprise on Iruka's  face, then shock, and now that he knew him, knew he was Naruto…His voice was worse, like a stake through the heart.  

"Then you are the demon fox.  You were all the time.  A demon."

That voice, cold academic, unyielding—hurt so bad.  There wasn't even anger or hate in it, just calculated loathing.  Naruto had hoped it wouldn't have come to this, that maybe there'd be some way to pull Iruka along even by magic…On Kakashi or Sasuke it wouldn't have hurt so bad, that voice, that manner, because it was expected; coldness was an element of who they were.  On Iruka…

Naruto's face betrayed nothing.  His eyes were flat, cold.  

"There's no honor attached to being what you are.  No glory, no dreams," those things that meant something once to Naruto, that were once his whole focus in life.  Not anymore though.  Not in this Naruto, not anymore.  Iruka sounded mildly surprised.  

"You really were, all this time.  Demons always have enemies.  They have no friends."

Naruto snapped.  

His eyes had been wavering before, tingling a little, but he had ignored it, as well as the cold sweat and blush on his neck.  Now the color in his eyes shifted to deep red, a growl founded his voice.  His expression didn't change much, but his upper lip pulled higher than necessary to show exactly how _long_ his teeth were.  His voice was nearly tangible, nearly hitting Iruka's ears with physical form.

"Like hell they do!  What would you know, you've never been one, you've never felt it!  What the hell were you expecting, a miracle, a saint!"

_//Child//_

Naruto paused when the thought hit, and burned again when he realized it had been deliberately sent.  He'd finally been figured out too late.

Iruka was more preoccupied with getting himself settled on the branch than with the creature beside him, deliberately turning his head away from him while he sat down.  

Again, Naruto's expression didn't change, but he spoke.

"Demons hate each other, they kill anything they touch.  But guess what, that's our _job_.  Our function. Born to be hated, born to kill, born to hate.  We killed each other, yeah, but the real fuckin' _kicker_ is that we never _sacrificed_ each!  We never killed each other and called it morality!  Called it necessity!  We saw what we were, always saw what we were doing, never tried to—rub some polish on it and call it _all right_!  Demons never did a damn thing to humans that you _didn't do to yourself_!"

Naruto turned his head to spit.  His movements still flowed like wind and liquid steel, still left echoes of power and grace with every turn of his head and twist of his muscle and lips.  It didn't matter what Iruka thought now.  It just mattered that he Knew.

"If you were really so afraid of me when the fox was sealed inside, you should have killed me when you had the chance or taught me what you wanted me to know.  You just threw me out there and expected me to land on my feet.  Hypocrites.  Cowards.  Too afraid to bite the bullet and too afraid to raise the ax."

Iruka snorted again, unimpressed.

"Idiot that wasn't fear.  That was mercy.  You wouldn't recognize it."

Naruto laughed out loud for the first time in this form ever, the sound coming out like a bark, loudly, honestly, the raw anger dripping from him in one easy movement of relaxation to reform into something stronger.

"No, that was fear.  I know more about mercy than you'd ever imagine.  Too much…You just didn't want to _choose_, afraid of looking bad.  So I chose for you.  That makes _me_ look bad.  I guess that makes me the bad guy, and whoop da dee, so I am."

Iruka looked sharply at him for the second time, angry, noticed something, and felt the granted world fall out from under him.  

He'd taken comfort, as Sasuke had, that it was Nine Tails speaking, walking, manipulating Naruto to its will.  It was too probable, too likely.  But that voice, even enclosed in the silken cold steel harmonics, that voice still angry and guilty, on the edge of breaking into tears or screams—that face turned down and away with that angry resentful smile twisted on his lips, that pure sorrow lost deep in his eyes…claret purple eyes…

…How many times had he seen that in his classroom, slouched over the desk from his spot in front.  How many times on the empty playground?  How many times in his empty apartment?  The face was young then, hair short, the eyes were blue, but it was still the same damn _face_.

They—they other children—had teased him, Iruka remembered.  Teased him hard, a little too hard for any child, but they were only children themselves, so they could hardly be faulted…They knew Naruto had no parents.  No one would defend him.  He was the perfect _target_.  And had been, right up to when he graduated to Chuunin level.  The perfect target.

—_Naruto found someone to defend him, someone with fangs and claws_—

How many _times_?  

"Naruto," Iruka whispered softly without meaning.

Naruto whipped his head around to glare at him, lips raised in a closed ready snarl and all set to deal out more, but Iruka noticed…the belligerent part of his mouth, the small angry, significant bit of fear and despair in his eyes…It was Naruto.  It was Naruto through and through.

Iruka was gripping the branch with both hands, mouth a little open, and looked exactly how he felt.

Naruto stood his ground as long as he could, before closing his mouth and quickly looking away.  His face was set in a resolute scowl, somehow still impassive and cold, convinced that the world was out to get him.  His chest hurt.  And his eyes were smarting again.

And Iruka wouldn't stop looking at him.

"What?" Naruto finally snapped off, not daring to turn his head, but still feeling Iruka's eyes on him.  It had been bad enough with the man staring at him like he was some monster from the Crypt Keeper, gawking at his ears and eyes, but it was a thousand times better than the one he was getting now.

Iruka was quiet a while before answering.

"Why—couldn't you have proven them wrong?"

Naruto's eyes widened momentarily then dimmed as he looked inside himself.  He knew what Iruka was referring to, knew who 'they' were.  

Hokage.

Them.

Naruto's voice was still hard, but cooler and a little bit more—quiet, than before.  Not guilty, not regretful, a simple stating of old dead facts that still had enough poison left in them to be treated carefully.

"Because—they wouldn't have let me.  Ever.  Majority rules.  Even…if I _earned_ the title, I'd still be Naruto the bastard.  I was when I left, and I was Jounin."

How do you say you're sorry for crimes you didn't commit?  Crimes they have no _right_ to pin on you?  For a childhood you didn't create, only tried to avert and failed?  For the lives of the dead who deserved it?  For the lives of the dead who _didn't_?

"I never want to see you again."

That was Iruka.  Naruto had been expecting it, wanting him to say the words simply to end the suspense and end the relationship; a final clean severing of all ties and now Naruto only nodded silently, unseen.  His control finally broke a small crack in the defenses when he heard them, those words, and a single thin line of water trickled out his left eye.  His face was still cold and impassive, the tiny trickle the only break in the seam.   

Iruka was watching him from the corner of _his_ eye.

It was easy to hate a demon, roaring and fearsome, clearly unnatural.  It was easy to hate a faceless gangster who killed for wealth.  It was hard to hate his student, who was crying silently, stoically, beside him.

His finger grazed Naruto's cheek, and wiped up the water.  Naruto didn't move, but he blinked quickly, too quickly, his eyes spastically flicked to Iruka's face to the woods below.  

Iruka swore in his mind, not at Naruto, but at the look in Naruto's eyes.  That combination of old despair and childish hope that would forever be linked in his mind to a late night ramen shop…but children could only be allowed so far.

He didn't—he was still a teacher.  Still.  Had students.  And when the fire came it hadn't been selective.  Naruto.  Hadn't been selective.  

Naruto said nothing, tried hard to do nothing except not cry anymore or fall down when Iruka took his hand away, farther away now than ever.  He couldn't stop his throat from swallowing, so he didn't, and he couldn't stop a second trickle of tears coming out of the corner of his eye.  One never knew how many contours and dips were in the facial structure until one really, really paid attention to them.

"You were spared."

Naruto had a million and one comebacks for that, all itching for that one question to come zooming out of his mouth in all their scathingly logical glory.  

_//Spared from **what**?  Spared **for** what?  Spared to be thrown to the wolves, spared **death** because a decoy, a target, a **scapegoat** was needed?  Spared the knife because I was more useful alive?//  _

There were _reasons_ for what he did.  What he destroyed.

_//Because they **deserved** it.  Because I **could**.  Because the world **isn't** fair.  Because I **wanted** to.//_

His voice was broken.  He didn't say anything.  Iruka was having verbal problems too.

"You were—the first son…Of the 4th Hokage…"

Dangerously sharp stillness.

"We couldn't—They wouldn't…"

Iruka was a million miles away, listening to an old man in the past.  If he had any idea of what he had unleashed, on what new fire he had just sparked, he gave no sign of it. 

"You were meant…to be a hero."

The wind was silent, and still, even at this high altitude.  There wasn't even the scent of smoke, only the faint sharp smell of green wood.  Just the cold bitter wind riffling through the hair.

***

He'd…he'd always…

He was so _young_ then.  So damn…young.

…So that was logic.

Mercy.  Ha.  Yes.

But what…

What changed, now?

really

……_Why?_

…

They had known.  Everything.  And they…let him loose.

His—on, face etched on the cliff…

No.

He'd done that to—

Your own—

His own—

Fuck this.

…

Fuck this **_shit_**!

***

"Naruto the bastard," Naruto said quietly, standing up, energy rising up along his stance and breath and bones in its subtle uncanny quiet way.

"Naruto the Bastard, now and forever."

_Because it's too late to turn back now._

Fire blossomed up and out, spreading out rapidly like wild rich vines and weeds throughout the forest fence, exploding the trees and bark and catching on dry and damp wood alike tearing it all apart burning with a hell fire of the scorned spawn of the hero.

It wasn't just a brilliant scorching flame it had _weight_ and _force_, tangible as any hammer or bullet and it fired _up_ to the heavens in anger in challenge in insult to all the gods and deities who watched what men did and didn't do _anything!  _

It traveled faster than wind, before the wind, on the wind and in the wind, not branching out from a single central point but from everywhere and _around_ creating a cage that moved _inside_ to itself like liquid mercury given _real_ power burning hatred spearing and cauterizing flesh and wood and leaf and all the goddamned leaf shit there was lying around and everywhere.

Why the hell didn't anyone _do_ something about it except they wouldn't because they _couldn't_, because the foxy demon was back baby, the foxy boy was back in black and ready for action and you're all gonna fry up something awful until life nor green nor scrabbling human mortal _filth ever touches this land again!_

_||_Human mortal_||_

_||_Keeper_||_

_||Defiler||_

Never ever feel or know this world the way foxy could, could never see nor feel themselves like foxy can how weak and petty you are, how lacking in honor or strength, so fragile that nothing is ever won without sacrifice or bloodshed or loss how pathetic how utterly contemptible they are.

Iruka fell off in shock when Naruto suddenly stood and his body erupted in flame, his sandaled feet catching onto the tree trunk by luck right before he felt explosions he didn't, couldn't, hear, some distance away.  The bark beneath his sandals exploded outward, throwing him into the air again.

Shrapnel and burning stakes propelled by inflammable and reactive chemicals and vast amounts of really _enraged_ chakra sped through the forest in all directions.

This fire had form, moved not upwards or dependent on fuel, clinging and trapped on wood, but as a living water snake with sentience and structure ramming straight through the ancient living trees and licking its flame and biting down on the ants that scurried and threw little sticks and stones at it and through it with real teeth of hydrogen gas and force which was all the solidity it really needed, jetting and zooming into moldable fall apart pieces that dodged the attacks and ate the defense and just ate it all up and all and all and all… 

_||So give me more I long for more give me **more**…||_

Running fleet-footed through the trees and along the wind and on the air run the ninja, the shadow walkers, the keepers, running away, away, away…so much like rabbits.

They looked like rabbits, dark and soft with flesh that still yielded so easily, so deliciously scrumptiously easy to the teeth, with faces that could still be torn to ribbons with a flick of the claw and they made noises, such noises, noises just like rabbits in heat or in birth or on pain of death a sort of strangled scream they don't expect anyone will hear and know won't save them but still they scream the little rabbits.

Still their bones crunch so nicely between the teeth while they try to cut and fight back, like potato chips with crisply fried pockets of blood to chomp and squish out, blood that hasn't been tasted this way in such a _long_ time, blood still remembered from so long ago so hot and warm and thickly smoothly down the throat with a bitter little bite in it the taste of human blood.

And here comes one to fight the fox, to kill the fox, ah, again they come to kill the demon and who is their envoy _this_ time my darling, who have they sent to keep the fox demon this time?

Ah.  Him.  Remembered is his scent his touch his voice…the lazy one that sleeps and kills even in his dreams, the perverted old one…his weakness is arrogance, thin strip of arrogance and sentiment and he must, surely he must…

_//…have nightmares locked away there in his brain of his daughter ah his daughter I see I do see how devastatingly unfortunate to bring that to the fore…//_

_||_How slow he is,_ how foolish do these humans learn nothing?||  _

_//…do it baby do it just like that just like that again//_

No of course not baby how could they, they could never know what it's like to be the demon child to live in _a real_ hell to survive the fox's nightmares the demon boy's world and they don't know how Foxy survived how Foxy came out oh so much stronger than all their pampered brats and Foxy'll show 'em _just_ what Foxy can do to their precious little people…

Doppelgangers child's play got that _down_ sensei but Foxy's got down things you never seen before things you've never done before and here's a new toy for you to play with that'll break your spine and boil your brain to a chewy sticky goo inside your skull because Foxy can't let you live sensei, not when they sent you to keep Foxy just over again just after Foxy found his wings.

Foxy's in the wings of the phoenix, in the wings of reincarnation and god it feels so _good_ just to feel it all rush up bubbling up…

//_from my stomach and roiling in my ribcage flowing out of my skin and fingers and god I feel so **hard**, so unbelievably turned on and sexy and powerful so beautiful baby that I think I'm gonna choke on it but I'd never do something that stupid not when I feel this, not when everything's so sharp and clear and if I pull this my power just—swallows everything **up**…//_

//_Ohhh… **Fuck**, here he is again.  Yeah, that's right I can walk on two legs and four didn't you know can't you feel my power surging towards you, you really thought I'd be so stupid as to let **you escape**, the woods are no good by themselves I need the humans dead too I need you dead too so copy this **now**, Copy Cat!  **Why don't you** **COPY THIS NOW!!//**_****

Blue green foxfire.

Blue green flame forcibly _ripped_ it's way through the bodies, always going for the stomach and neck.  Real, natural orange red fire followed in its wake, burning brightly on the bark and gastric juices and skin and dry leaf.

Blue-green light flickered through the treetops, leaving fingerprints of scorched wood or stone where it touched something other than the air.  The air itself, under a thick sharp layer of wood smoke, smelled strangely of tin.  

Water killed the red-orange fire, as did the dirt and wind.  The blue-green light hid itself in the wood, entering the branches with only a burn mark to show its passage and dashed down on whoever walked near it, elements of mist and water avoided by hiding in the earth, wood, or air.  

It flickered and struck like lightening hidden in the gleam of light, dancing on fox feet and bird wings and slithering rushing and curling around the trees like a snake in all its serpentine sensual seduction.  It raced and tore through whatever it found, played and killed with subtle sly asphyxiation and hard-core up front showdowns.  A doppelganger of flame and shadow with a fox's body and boy's laugh was even created to give people a clearer idea of what they were to fight.

So funny, so funny…these little humans and their games.  Who's winning now, Copy Cat?  Who's winning now?

People fought on, and ran.

Where the fox roamed, the fox itself, a creature easily as long as a truck and taller, with white blond fur and ruby eyes roamed madness stayed rooted in the air.  The fox didn't need to stay too long, just long enough to touch a _single_ mind with some passing thought or open some hidden door forgotten in the consciousness, a closet for all the twisted perverted and vile ideas and let it all come piling through the eyes and drowning the soul.  Come crashing through the mind with the force of a tsunami.  

Once one ninja showed signs of madness, once the tension and fear and disbelief really caught up…the jostling in the skin, the jostling of the weapons…Everything added up.  

And the fox moved on, often unseen and never touched.

People fought on, and ran further.

There was nothing to run back _to_.  The ninja village had been burned down, was still burning.  They could always build another one.  But now they had to stay alive.  But there were other villages in the forest.  Villages not made up of shinobi. 

Foxy sniffed the air.

Foxy tasted bitter rum on the wind.

Foxy grinned.

//_Let's play, Demon Hunter.  Let's play little games in the dark, my Demon Hunter, my dark darling angel…//_

Foxy licked his teeth.  

***

*Naruto does do this in Issue 1 of the manga.  He cries with his goggles on so no one can see the tears fall.

Bastard: Someone (male only?) without a legal father.

A/N: In reality, the Konoha villagers would have probably been able to defend, but I didn't want to create complications.  I'm not saying they're wimps, just that it wouldn't have worked for them to win.  Was that angry enough?  Hope it made sense.  Naruto vol.1 finally made it here, hence quotes.  Tried to make the merger between Nine Tails and Naruto seem complete.  Does anybody know _why_ Nine Tails attacked the village in the first place?

Lemon next chapter.  I liked writing it.  I thought it was cool.


	7. I: Poolah Devi

A/N: The lines:

_You were never loved!_

_This is it.  Please die_.

Are the lines taken from the Naruto manga, spoken to Gaara by Yashamura (his psuedo-mother, caretaker, later hired to kill him and she's really happy about that).  That's kind of Gaara's outlook on him and love.  

***

Attraction 

By gelfling

gelfling8604@yahoo.com__

//_Thoughts//_

_::Invading thoughts_::

***

"Cheer, cheer, yell, yell, it doesn't matter we're all going to Hell."  
--Jane Lane, _Daria_

Don't get all ethical on us.

--Dilbert to the Weasel, _Dilbert_, Scott Adams

_There_. For good or bad. It's done.

--Furies, _Sandman: The Kindly Ones_, Neil Gaiman

***

Even though they were almost always fighting and bickering--well, Naruto was bickering while Sasuke was offensively ignoring him--Sasuke had always made a point of looking after Naruto. Making sure he was alive and nearly complete, that he was somewhat comfortable and taking care of himself.

Nothing hugely obvious or particularly heartfelt, and in truth Sasuke acted more like it was a chore--taking care of Naruto--because he was too stupid to take care of himself. Perhaps because Sasuke knew exactly what it was like to live completely alone. Perhaps because it was some sort of moral obligation to him. He didn't go out of his way a whole lot to help the blond boy, but it was more than he ever did for anyone else.

It was obvious that Naruto either didn't notice, or didn't appreciate it.

For a short time, Naruto had been Sasuke's grudging stray dog that was fed scraps whenever it wandered through, and gave nothing save his time in return.

Naruto's and Sasuke's relationship had always been funny, fuzzy, and entirely too hard to pin down exactly. It was always changing, right in the split seconds morphing and evolving and regressing faster than viruses in a kindergarten, but it never faded away. Perhaps it couldn't. Perhaps they wouldn't let it. 

At any rate, that had been the thread they were following between team member and sworn enemy and bitter rival and clandestine friend right up until--

Naruto disappeared. Actually, not so much disappeared as…left. As in left the village. As in left his home. As in left his life. As in left his dreams. And--most important--as in left Sasuke.

In response to quieter, less hectic days, one less rival and itching, irritating and above all bloody _Loud_ thorn in his side, Sasuke was decidedly not regretful. So Naruto was gone. So what? Deadlast could barely tie his shoes right without getting his fingers knotted in the laces as well--It was too much to expect that he would know how to say a decent good-bye or even get his _papers_ in right. The idiot could hardly ever do anything right.

And Sasuke didn't care. So what? It was Naruto's life, Naruto's choice. Wasn't his business, he didn't owe the dobe anything, and vice versa. Wasn't like it was a big deal or anything. 

So, despite all appearances, Sasuke was not depressed.

In the very invisible cloak of his bed late at night with the window closed and curtains shut and all the lights off with no one at all in the universe existing or living or breathing except for Uchiha Sasuke sitting alone and still on his rumpled bed sheets and hard bed, the Prodigy was not depressed. He was not depressed at all, even to himself very quietly. 

What he _was_, what he actually _felt_, Sasuke felt very quietly and only to himself. He didn't share. He had never been very good at sharing.

Naruto had been bright and vibrant and uncontrollable, all aspects that Sasuke didn't have and didn't want. Naruto had been alive and wildly, fickly passionate, something Sasuke _could not be_. Naruto had been something Sasuke couldn't afford to be. Naruto had been something Sasuke couldn't afford to have.

Naruto had never been something Sasuke wanted.

Even sitting in the padded darkness of his own head, Naruto had never been something Sasuke wanted. Never. It was a simple fact. That was all.

…

But Naruto had been something Sasuke could take care of.

Lightly. When he felt like it. And _only if he wanted to and because it would get the blond airhead to leave him alone in peace, in silence. It was something of an odd hobby Sasuke couldn't avoid, no matter how he tried. It was just like feeding a stray dog, really. Just one of those funny things._

Back when they were eleven and twelve to fourteen, back when they had learned to exist in the same biosphere by absolute _chance, back when dreams about Naruto had always been weird and slightly disturbing in the chaotic way __everything about Naruto was. _

Way back when they had been merely rivals, merely taken up 95% of each other's minds through sheer irritability and chafing arrogance and absurd durability. Way back when the shadow-shackles Itachi had cursed him with had been blown straight away by stupid golden banter and disgusting self-conceit. Way back when his off-hand contempt was turning into bitter poisonous jealously at the blonde's potential. Way back when the dreams had turned less chaotic, more streamlined, and a good _de__al more terrifying. Way back when Naruto lying asleep and unaware on a bed was just another thing. Way back when the secret unspoken feel of Naruto's lips against Sasuke's tongue had meant absolutely nothing at all. _

Absolutely nothing at all.

Because Naruto had left like it was nothing at all. Like nothing and everything and _Sasuke_ was absolutely _Nothing_ at all! 

…Because it wasn't. Because Naruto, in the long run, was nothing important. Because Naruto _was_ no one important. Just one of those odd bobs that life occasionally dished out, every now and again. 

Naruto was nothing special. Naruto could be replaced easily, and the few times that Team 7 had reconverged for missions Naruto _had been replaced, because Naruto had actually been _improved_…_

Because Naruto had left like Sasuke was nothing at all.

So Sasuke acted like Naruto was nothing at all.

Because Naruto didn't care.

So Sasuke didn't care.

Because Sasuke really was, quite, quite angry. 

Quite angry.

Over nothing. Over everything. Over Naruto and over dreams and things he didn't understand and couldn't afford and didn't want and couldn't have. 

It was nothing special. Naruto was nothing special. _They were nothing special; if Sasuke wanted a loud and brazen rival, all he had to do was walk down two blocks to knock on Rock Lee's house or stare at Neji for a second too long or if he __really wanted to get some good training in all he had to do was find the pervert Kakashi and pull him away from his stupid book or another lunch with Iruka-sensei that he was always having and try to finally beat the Jounin into the ground. _

Besides, the moron hadn't really needed Sasuke so much really before he had left, before anyone had even guessed that he would be leaving. His technique, his sheer _power_ was bitterly, sickeningly, insanely better than Sasuke's. Naruto's _strength was better than Sasuke's. Even though you really couldn't tell, even though Naruto's behavior was still dismally retarded and idiotic and impulsive, he was still __stronger than Sasuke. He really didn't __need Sasuke anymore. It wasn't Sasuke who was doing the rescuing anymore, wasn't him feeding the stray dog the scraps. _

Sasuke didn't accept second-place. He'd _never accept pity._

The bitter hatred was still one-sided, but the coin had been flipped.

Sasuke hated Naruto.

Then Naruto left.

Sasuke didn't care.

Naruto was nothing. Naruto wasn't special. Naruto wasn't _necessary. There were other people to fill in his spot as rival. There were other people to fill in his spot as a pain in the fundament. There were other people to screech agonizingly loud in Sasuke's ear at _exactly_ the wrong time. Usually Sakura, over another date Sasuke was always turning down with increasing viciousness._

Naruto was replaceable. Naruto was nothing. 

Naruto was a dog that had finally found a real home somewhere, or had been road-kill on some highway. Naruto was gone, and was nothing really special. Naruto was an itch that was finally gone, a bruise that had finally healed up. 

Naruto was gone.

And Sasuke wasn't going to go chase after him.

Never. Ever.

No matter how Sakura glanced at him.

No matter where they traveled. 

No matter how many blondes there were in the crowd.

No matter how many times a raucously cheerful voice called out.

No matter what Kakashi said. 

Kakashi-sensei was a twisted romantic; someone who could never get his characters right and didn't understand people basically even if he did notice things pretty closely. In the very heart of things, Kakashi didn't know anything. Not about Sasuke, nothing about Sasuke, not really. Not a fucking _thing_.

Sasuke never looked for Naruto.

Sasuke made a _point_ of never looking for Naruto.

Life went on.

Sasuke went on.

And then, right in the dawn of war and uncertainty and doom and glory, the tempting scorned baby powder blue, crashing into his life and structure and mind right all over again, demolishing everything and anything in his path, all of the old borders and walls and firebreaks came Naruto. 

All over again.

Sasuke was no longer quite, quite angry. He didn't want to know what he was, or what he was thinking. Sasuke didn't want to identify what he was feeling. 

Naruto was an idiot and screw-up in every possible way. And seeing what the blond had finally done with his life, what he had finally accomplished after all those years and months and days so very far away and out of reach and out of sight…

There were no words for the cold hollow feeling that slowly grew inside of him. 

It would vanish instantly whenever teenage Naruto would flash him a quick smile, his eyes closing and crinkling at the edges, or whenever he would laugh just slightly at the edge of something. But--it wasn't Naruto. It was Naruto. It wasn't Naruto.

It wasn't _Sasuke's_ Naruto. 

Except that Sasuke had never _owned Naruto._

It wasn't Sasuke's lost dog anymore.

It wasn't even a dog.

It wasn't joy or relief or despair or disappointment or regret or guilt or anything really. It wasn't even that good old familiar anger anymore. The anger was cold. The anger was dead. Whatever it was, Naruto always made Sasuke to some degree--angry. The emotions he needled and provoked were always hot and agitating. Never, _never_, had Naruto ever made Sasuke feel colder than he already was. It wasn't possible. It just wasn't possible. 

And all of sudden now it was. 

It was dawning on Sasuke that perhaps Naruto _wasn't nothing. Maybe Naruto was something. But whatever that something was…_

Sasuke wasn't sure if he still didn't want it anymore. 

But one thing was certain. 

Naruto was Something.

"Naruto the Bastard. Naruto the Demon King. Now and forever."

***

And then came that mess with the village. And then came that mess with the fire. And then came that mess with everything.

And then came that mess that Naruto always created. 

Sasuke was never quite sure what had happened, only that the quiet and strangely empty village street had suddenly gone dark. When he opened his eyes again, he had been tied up and gagged deep in the woods, and there was dark red tumor of fear and dread growing in his brain and his stomach. 

Nothing had held him. Not the handcuffs or rope or two people who kept hitting him or their screams or anything. Nothing had held him. 

Sasuke had always taken idle care of Naruto.

And right now, he knew beyond a doubt, Naruto was doing something so totally stupid and brainless and crazy and stupid and painful and irrevocable and so very, very terrible that things would never get better no matter what. Naruto was creating a wound that could never be healed, digging a pit that would swallow him whole. 

Sasuke had set out to save Naruto from himself. 

Sasuke's heart changed.

Sasuke set out to stop Naruto. Sasuke set out to kill him. 

The anger returned.

Pale silver tinted with a hint of yellow cream slinked through the trees to where Sasuke was standing waiting. Easily as tall as a truck and so much longer, eerily slender, wraith-like, and aerodynamically streamlined like a walking hieroglyph for speed, solid and warm with scorch marks for paw prints, eddies of smoke and steam and magic breezing from forelocks like windblown leaves. Eyes. Eyes alive and feeling and warm.

Sasuke stood perfectly still, keeping the creature's gaze. It was a very strange hunting technique, where the hunter stood absolutely still where the prey could see him perfectly and the deer actually came to the hunter, staring at him with their liquid brown eyes not running away and not bothering to hide. 

Empathy trap.

Steam teapot-hot whooshed softly past Sasuke's face while he looked slightly up into slow beating depths that were an unnatural shade of color. To say they were merely red was to say that the ocean was merely blue, and not green or gray or aquamarine or black or white in places. The eyes weren't red. They weren't red and they weren't human and they weren't stupid and they welcomed Sasuke like the parents he barely remembered now.

_Demon Hunter_.

_Human Prey_.

It was impossible to swallow, and Sasuke's clothes and hair were steaming from when had fallen in the river by misstep. He could feel his skin tanning, getting burned and peeling back. 

Sasuke could drown in those eyes. He could drown in those eyes forever like the strongest red wine, intoxicated and helpless and completely content. He knew he could drown in those eyes. He also knew, that he wouldn't be hurt. Those eyes would never hurt him.

Strangely, that was the spark.

Sasuke moved faster than he knew he could, faster than he ever remembered moving, but even as he marveled at the speed, he already knew something was wrong. He knew he had done the wrong thing, that while the speed and strategy was uncanny, the timing was wrong. 

Sasuke knew this, because the fox hadn't dodged.

Burning wetness ran over his bruised fingers like hot wax, blistering the skin and weaving under the finger nails that were clenched white against the handle of the stolen katana he had thrust up into the creature's heart, right in between the ribs, the blade sliding more than half-way in, the lustrous fur barely brushing Sasuke's knuckles.

He was standing with his head level to its muzzle, smelled the strange smell of burnt cinnamon and wood smoke that the creature was dusted in, and for the first time noticed the bloodstains on the body. Noticed the sickly black thick smell of burned blood, smarting the eyes. Noticed the smell of burning animal flesh. 

//_Is that me?//_

His eyes slid to the side, frozen in the instant that took up minutes, still not noticing on purpose that the flesh next to him hadn't shivered a single time. Still hadn't flinched or moved from his attack, content to take it head on. Like it didn't hurt at all.

There was blood on the muzzle. 

Fine and thick and black, but there was blood on the muzzle. Sasuke seriously doubted that the blood belonged to the creature. It wasn't fear or horror that welled up in him, but only absent annoyance.

//_Huh_.//

His feet flew like light, but he wasn't fast enough. 

Sasuke cried out as the tree crashed into his stomach, mentally wincing absently when he heard the bones snap and saw white flecks on his arm rushing down to be crushed by the scorching earth, and screamed bloody murder when he felt roiling pristine golden claws rake lazily over the tenderness of his mind.

The pain sang brilliant scarlet over his eyes with pearly white asterisks punctuating the red blankness, while he choked on his saliva and blood. His mind was invaded again.

Cold indigo blackness pushed the bright redness away, pushed the pain away leaving Sasuke feeling surprisingly hollow, empty and lost, after being so filled. After two convulsions of his neck that he didn't order and a well-aimed spit, he was able to breathe again. And see again, though everything was blurry, a foggy kaleidoscope of gray black and orange. 

He was on his back, Sasuke realized. And the fox was looming over him.

Abruptly, blandly, the pain left Sasuke's body. He gasped. Then startled, blinked, and gasped again. The pain was gone. The fire in his bones was gone. The _heat_ was gone.

Naruto was grinning down at him, a human face and body, yellow light behind his head, eyes dark and sparkling with hunger. And it was…_his Naruto, the young Naruto, the Naruto of thirteen years with his soft and innocent face. The smile was easy, slightly rueful and infinitely gentle, but the eyes were dark, lusty, with a look that didn't belong on any child's face._

Sasuke glanced off to his side. His bones really were poking out of his arm twisted the wrong way. And the fire still raged--he could see that, if he squinted. He just…couldn't feel that blistering heat anymore. 

Sasuke turned his attention to more pressing matters.

Naruto was lying on top of him, smiling that dirty smile. He wasn't 13 anymore, but a blurry image back to his current age and face, his hair long and thin blond trails falling over him streaked thin with blood and dirt, creating a semi-curtain around Sasuke. Dark blue eyes were flecked with purple and pinkish-burgundy around the edges, and his teeth were pointed and white where he smiled.

"I'm naked too," Naruto murmured softly to him.

Naruto laughed.

"You're so weird," he chirped cheerfully.

Not knowing what to make of that, Sasuke found he didn't have to make anything as Naruto's lips sang gentle cool tunes to him in his throat, smoky urban blues sliding down across his tongue while Naruto kissed him healingly, tenderly, polishing his teeth with his tongue and tickling childishly along the roof his mouth, dancing shyly with his tongue. 

By absolute chance, Sasuke closed his eyes and opened his mouth, his lips caressing the laughing free wild ones; hot and alive with demon fire.

With a show of dexterity, Naruto turned his arm around and back in time to catch Sasuke's wrist before the knife stabbed into his back. Naruto laughed against his mouth, and lifted off. Forcing his good arm at odd angles, Naruto pinned it at Sasuke's side, squeezing it until he released the kunai. A half-hearted desperate attack could never hurt him, not even if it was Sasuke's. He was still grinning down on him. Still laughing. Like it was merely nothing.

The anger returned.

Sasuke was never sure how he did it and he really didn't care at the time; his hands were sizzling with energy, veritably _thrumming with energy like a buzz saw, and Naruto was wincing and crumpled on the ground, the clean pale blue of his eyes watering with pain and his stomach bleeding and missing some important bits. He had a hole the size of a grapefruit in the side of his stomach, and was wincing on the ground. There was a lot of blood. There was a lot of pain._

_Naruto had never been something Sasuke wanted._

_Except that Sasuke had never *_owned*_ Naruto._

The heat and pain returned full force, but they weren't important in Sasuke's mind. They weren't anything special. Naruto wasn't anything special. Naruto had never been anything special.

The only thing special was the anger.

The only thing important was the anger.

The only thing good was the anger.

The only thing wanted was the anger.

The only thing Sasuke had wanted--ever--was only the anger. 

The only thing Sasuke would ever have was the anger.

The only thing Sasuke _could_ have was the anger.

Only thing.

He let it flow through him.

If Naruto didn't die here, then Sasuke would do it in his stead. The last real thing he owed the idiot. The last real thing.

***

Naruto came back to the fortress later, much later. Some three days and nights later. And he brought a souvenir. 

Huge silent paws padded through the corridors and tunnels, moving with the same fluidity and grace as the wind, and people stayed out of its way religiously. The smoke had traveled far, had risen high, and still lingered in the sky over the forest. People stayed away, far, until a voice inside their heads called them.

A body was left on the floor for them to find, Naruto standing over it and dressed in only his red duster closed at the waist and hanging down to mid-thighs, his hair raggedly cut off at the shoulders, a large pile of pale blond hair dropped beside him. The body was beaten and bloody, and quite unbelievably alive. 

On Naruto's quiet request, they carried him to the somewhat clean room that was occasionally used as an infirmary, and set his broken arm and leg and cleaned and bandaged his wounds, applied salve to the burns, antiseptic to the wounds and healing herbs of indeterminate origin that had definite results. 

Naruto stood quietly in the shadows of a corner, and lit a cigar.

After working so long with Nine Tails, traveling so far on four legs with the taste of human blood in his mouth, his hair and skin still smeared with red-brown stains and the smell so strong on him, Naruto really needed a cigar to calm down his blood, get some other smell in his nose besides the scent of human blood and wood smoke. 

He wasn't so worried about his various injuries, the worst when a sword was ripped and torn through the left side of his abdomen taking quite a bit of flesh with it, right over the fresh raw spot where Sasuke's energy had hit him, damaged the bone and torn out the flesh. Had that been a chidori, or what? He was nearly healed, the pain bearable, and injuries already turning to scars that would fade within a few days.

He wasn't a chain smoker, any more than he was alcoholic, because he didn't seem able to get addicted. It had something to do with demon blood, the high metabolism. The affects of the drug hit him hard and fast, and then left just as quickly as if nothing had happened, and didn't linger in his system. 

The two of them, one with funny skin and one with hands that did funny things, reported that the boy would live, but it would be few weeks, few months perhaps, before he completely recovered. The breaks in his bones had been clean, but still pretty severe. And yes, to answer Naruto's first question, he would be scarred in several places.

Naruto absorbed this quietly, his face a mask, then nodded and told them to leave.

He wasn't quite willing to wait a few weeks, much less a few months. And he also wouldn't tolerate scarring, not on him. Not on Sasuke.

Moving quietly to stand besides the metal slab, looking down on Sasuke, Naruto exhaled the cigar smoke out through his nose, looking something like an angry dragon with a pensive look on his face. Presently, his hair began to turn paler in the fluorescent light, and inch down his back.

Of course, naturally, Sasuke would fight. Sasuke made everything difficult, it was something built into his general Sasuke-ness. He had made winning Sakura over difficult without even trying, for one, and had made being the best ninja ever _very_ difficult with little action on his part Naruto had always thought. He had always been Naruto's rival in all things, even way back when they could have called each other "friend" quietly in their heads, and even now that they were enemies, they were still rivals in so many things. 

He partially unwrapped the bandages from Sasuke's broken arm, right above the elbow. 

Picking up a scalpel from the tray next to the slab, Naruto held his cigarette tightly between his lips. He opened his palm upwards, and quickly slit a line diagonally across it, breaking the skin and biting into the muscle, before gripping the bare skin and muscle on Sasuke's arm, and just held it there while his own skin ever so slightly began to glow.

A few weeks, few months perhaps, was entirely too long to wait. A few days, one week perhaps, was all Naruto was prepared to wait. Sasuke would be back on his feet before then, he was certain, and ready to dish out the old Sasuke ass-hole attitude.

Naruto looked forward to it.

***

Day six since the initial attack on Konohagakure.  Day three since the demon fox had returned to his lair.

Day four since Sasuke Uchiha was in his right mind.  

The room spun around and around and around over and over again with the dry icky itchy smell of dead burning pine and ashy coughing smoke that really stunk and it all went around and his arm was twice it's size and he was really awake in a cloud far away so why was he so _hot_?  

He was burning up he was so very hot.

Dimly, unwillingly, he registered a dull whiteness, a general feeling of cleanliness, and the smell of cigar smoke. He was warm, wherever he was, and it wasn't too uncomfortable though everything still hurt like hell.

He didn't have the energy to wince, but he still felt pain as his eyes traveled around in their skins, fingers attempting to flex and exploding in very small fireworks at the joints, and the film over the skin burning. Still the same dullness, same grayness, still the same feeling of disinfectant and clean linen. 

His skin felt chilly, damp, and his throat ached as the room gripped him round the neck and swung him over and in a circle.  The room was a dragon blue green that ate babies and kitchen grease and had camped out in the back of his throat to vomit and crap on his tonsils.  Crawly and stinky and he hurt all over.  His stomach was a drum except if Sasuke had known more he would have thought it a guitar made of sheep gut tied with purple sound in little loop de loops.

Vaguely red eyes burned on his retina with black spikes and insanity and resentment and disappointment and betrayal and anger so much damn anger.  What was that doing there that didn't belong to him.  He wasn't like that not his aniki he wasn't like that he trusted him he needed him he loved him.  That smile couldn't lie; not those eyes.  He loved Sasuke. So what was that doing there?  It didn't belong there it didn't belong to him it's not like this it's not like this what the hell was it doing there!!

Why was it moving why was it all moving it's too Loud shut up shut up shut UP!!!

Sasuke made a soft sound, and his eyelids winced.

In a far corner, Naruto quietly lit a cigar and inhaled deeply.

Sasuke never screamed in his sleep.  Naruto wasn't quite sure how to feel about that.  It annoyed him, somehow, but he knew he had to be in pain.

The drugs that Sasuke had been fed had guaranteed to put him out for a week, but he hadn't gotten in more than five hours complete sleep at most.  The demon blood had seen to that.  It would heal him--it _was_ healing him a good deal faster than any drugs or attention Naruto could get, but Sasuke's body was rejecting it, fighting it, and the sickness and fever dreams were a result of that.

None of this terribly surprised Naruto.  It was expected.

His blood would heal him faster of his physical wounds, erase nearly all the scars, and lower his immune system significantly, so the minor cold he had caught was quickly mutating into something uglier; either strip throat or some pneumonia.  It was hard to say this early.  He hadn't left Sasuke's side for more than a few hours the whole while.  The doctors kept giving him funny looks.  He could smell their fear; see it in his eyes.  He might have been a sight; he didn't know.  Naruto didn't care.

He didn't feel like sleeping any time soon.  He wouldn't need to eat for a while.  

Sasuke didn't cry out in his sleep, but he did dream.  He sweated, whimpered and even cried, his body turning and legs trying to run only they were still too damaged to do so.  But he didn't actually talk, nor give name to his nightmare.

If Sasuke dreamed of Konohagakure, Naruto didn't know.  If Sasuke dreamed of Sakura, wondered on her, Naruto didn't know.  If Sasuke dreamed all the way back to Itachi, back to the three-day living hell he'd been crucified in, Naruto didn't know.  If Sasuke thought of him…Naruto didn't want to know.  He had no idea what Sasuke was thinking, or what he was going through save what he could figure through his obsessive selfish vigil.  

Naruto himself didn't dare sleep.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw the flames.  He could still hear the screams.  He had gone through a packet of cigarettes in three hours, and continued.  He couldn't get the smell out of his nose.

Naruto didn't dare touch his mind.

Sasuke walked this desert alone.

***

Oh crap, you're going to try and cheer me up aren't you?

-Hot Topic

_I've killed a million petty souls  
But I couldn't kill you  
I've slept so long without you_

_--Queen of the Damned soundtrack_

Hate is force of attraction.

--Common 

***

The door opened softly.

Gaara had crept to the hidden corner of the shower wall when he heard the footsteps down the outside hall; since the doorway and the bathroom door were directly across, it was the only hiding place he could manage in that short time.

Temari would have knocked.  No one else would _dare_ go into his room, not even on order; they weren't that stupid.  They weren't important, but they weren't that stupid.  Kankuro wouldn't have dared.

The past week, perhaps longer, he had spent in barely conscious pain, aware that the pain was gradually receding to a pounding dull ache, and he was being touched. He had reacted badly to that, and it had only been Temari's face, Temari's voice and touch so close to him that he couldn't see anything else, that had stopped him. His energy was gone, drained; leaving him with various cuts and more serious burns that hours of salve and ice had been spent on until he refused to take it. 

Everyone was so terrified of him it was disgusting. Logical and smart, but still disgusting.

Now he was nearly completely healed and still as weak and violent as ever. All they told him to do was not to shower or wear clothing too tight, definitely _not_ to fight, and to bathe with some sort of brown powder mixed into the cold water. That was what he had been doing, until he heard the door open.

Silently, he slid to vertical out of the water, not even allowing droplets to fall for the splash. He already had a kunai in his hand that he had placed next to the soap earlier, and it was the only weapon he had; even though the room was drenched with sand in every conceivable corner, he was still too weak to use it, all of his available chakra was still being funneled towards healing his body.

The footsteps stopped in the bathroom's doorway, and waited. Gaara pressed tighter against the wall.

"It's me."

Even with the weak power supply and immune system, Gaara's eyes still burned at the sound of that voice, and he gripped the kunai harder while loosening his muscles instinctively. The speaker sighed.

"I know you're there. You know I'm here. And I'd really like it if you didn't attack me first thing, all right? At least not until you're better."

The silence grew positively _icy from the bathroom, and deeply, madly, hateful. _

Naruto frowned. 

All right, so those weren't the best words…so maybe he had screwed up that line. He hadn't _meant_ to be condescending-not too much. Gaara had partly deserved what happened to him, and he had _rescued_ the bastard, hadn't he? Words were Gaara's and Sasuke's forte, not his; he did illusions, actions-even as a child with his Sexy no Jutsu. 

Naruto sighed silently.

"Gaara," Naruto began.

"Fuck it."

…Well, at least now he knew Gaara wasn't unconscious. Or dead or asleep or not really there…Just incredibly, darkly, unyieldingly angry. And all the more angrier at his position, his vulnerability, past normal pissed-off-angry and into hide-or-kill-angry. Angry with fear. Angry with hate. This would not be pretty.

Emotions vied for speech: reflexive anger, pity, sulkiness, sympathy, righteousness…

"Will you come out?"

The childish accent was gone. The friendly, careless and casual tone was gone. The voice wasn't threatening, and didn't even manage an impressive "cool", on Gaara's scale of intimidation; the only one to do that had been Sasuke. Yet in Naruto that mature voice was unexpected, which was a cause for thought.

Gaara didn't answer.

He didn't hear the footsteps, the sounds of breathing seemed to erase from the room, didn't even hear the swish of the fabric as it moved across Naruto's body. It was suspense, and he knew beyond whatever generous doubts he'd given the backstabbing vixen before that it _was intentional._

Naruto appeared, next to the bathtub, in his black shirt with red padded jacket and loose pants, hair tousled and eyes dull, dark. Gaara stared at him naked and slightly wet, burn marks running over his hands and chest, over the distance of a foot and the short bathtub wall, arm held loosely to his chest and knife held tightly in his fist and angry as only Gaara could be.

For a long time, neither spoke.

Since the time at the end battlefield, this was first they had really looked at each other.

Naruto raked his eyes over his body curtly, always keeping some attention on the knife, on Gaara's eyes. 

"You betrayed me."

His voice was unnaturally cool, smooth and hard like marble, and devoid of all emotion when he spoke. He wasn't accusing anything and didn't seem angry. He said it like it was nothing, just a dead fact. Strange; nothing was ever dead in Naruto's voice, it was always lit by some passing emotion…

He didn't bother to remind Gaara about Sakura's death, how foolish it was. He didn't bother to inform him on the sheer effort it had taken to free him, how risky and stupid it was to launch a full-scale attack on Konohagakure that day…how easily they could have been defeated if just a few more things had gone wrong. 

How victory had cost them everything and left them with nothing. 

Not here, not now. It wasn't like Gaara would care anyway; he'd take the opening for what it was and belittle and criticize like Hell's harpies, and Naruto didn't trust himself completely around Gaara yet, not in his condition.

The knife thudded into his chest.

He had-he had seen the blow coming, had seen the anger and the movement and had known what it had meant--Why hadn't he moved? Naruto didn't know. 

Gaara was leaning into his chest, his left hand gripping his shoulder, not for pain but for balance, he was still so weak on his feet he had to be leaning against the shower wall the whole time, and the speed and shoving the knife through the liar's thick skin had taken up strength. Gaara glared up, hatred written all over his face, into Naruto's blue eyes not a few inches away from him.

"You betrayed _me_."

Naruto was still. Gaara was trembling a little.

"You would have left me to die."

"You're alive now."

Something was going on in Gaara's mind, something Naruto didn't even want to see or feel. He could feel the faint remains Nine Tails laying down, relaxed, yet watching Gaara with deadly attention. Naruto's hand moved up to cover Gaara's fist against his chest, not touching him or distracting his attention from his eyes and his own private war inside his head.

Gaara sneered deprecatingly. 

"Why?"

He felt like laughing; you could hear it in his voice. 

He felt like any minute now, he was going to start laughing out loud at the games still going on, like he was still playing them. Naruto wanted something, wanted to go into his mind again to figure out what he had said, what the enemy knew, and wouldn't believe him if he told the truth that it was nothing, it was nothing at all, that even though Gaara hated him he wouldn't have folded under the enemy, not for anything. That wasn't the way he worked. He'd stab his partner, but he'd never help the enemy, even at his own pain. But the idiot wouldn't understand that, wouldn't see that. No.

And Gaara couldn't stop him from getting inside anymore. He couldn't stop him at all.

Naruto blinked.

"Because I care."

"About you, I mean," he added, because it sounded phony and cliché even to him without it. "You h…" Naruto stopped, and turned his eyes to the faucet. He couldn't look at Gaara and say this. He couldn't say this at all; he didn't know what he wanted to say!

"You probably…deserved it. You know. But I wasn't…" Naruto blinked and looked quickly back into Gaara's eyes again. "I wouldn't have left you to them. If I want you dead, I'll kill you myself. But I wouldn't leave you to them."

//_I won't leave you. I might hate you, but I won't leave you._//

It was impossible to pin Gaara down just then. It sounded like a lie. It sounded like a _convenient_ lie. It sounded like a bad lie.

He wanted to believe it.

He was afraid it was true.

And yet Naruto…Naruto wouldn't…

Naruto had Sasuke. Naruto wanted Sasuke. Naruto played games, and the hell with the ones that got caught in the middle.

He wanted to believe it.

It hurt to look in Naruto's eyes. It hurt to look at Naruto.

Angrily, uncertainly, he shifted his stance but didn't move away, or closer. He glared at the sink and mirror over Naruto's shoulder. This didn't…this didn't…it didn't really mean anything, not in a way that anything meant something it didn't…it really…

He wanted to believe it. 

Gaara was trembling now, hard, and Naruto clasped his hand over quickly and pulled the knife out smoothly, wincing and hissing between his teeth. He had time, he had power, it would heal, it would heal…It hadn't actually _hit_ anything important, which was strange for Gaara, but it would heal and he could feel queasy tickly feeling of the blood and muscle moving already, and shunted some chakra to the area. He was bleeding all over himself…all over the floor.

Gaara's head fell lightly on his shoulder, wanting and not wanting to just collapse right there and right then on Naruto and too afraid to do it because if Naruto moved away…then he'd fall. Right to the tile floor and right through his mind, the final exile going through his mind and soul like a hot ball bearing through butter. He wouldn't be able to take this one, he wouldn't be able to come back from this one, not when another demon, another boy as lonely as you throws you away. Away? He had wanted to kill Naruto, but only because…only because…

Gently, hesitantly, he felt Naruto's warm hands on his bare back, his sleeves brushing against his arms and sides as he was embraced. 

_You were never loved._

_This is it.  Please die._

Gaara felt himself fall apart.

He clutched at his back, opened his mouth to drag in the air because for some reason he couldn't breathe, for some reason the air wasn't going into him and it was making it hard to think and Naruto was holding him and he felt all hot and slippery and wet and terribly off balance and absolutely bone-deep afraid of everything and nothing and tried to dig his nails into Naruto's back, tried to hurt his vertebrae through his clothes and he couldn't because the strength went out of his fingers. 

His eyes felt funny and it was hard to see, far too warm for anything and he dimly realized that Naruto's neck was right there, not an inch away from his mouth and if he wanted he could rip out the bastards throat, he could kill him just like that, just in an instant, he could rip out Naruto's throat and it was getting so hard to breathe, why was it so fucking hard to breathe?

Naruto pulled Gaara closer, nearly holding him up, and rubbed his hands in circles over his back lightly. He had to be hurting the hell out of him, with the way his burns were, but Gaara wasn't pulling away. He just clung tighter, trembled harder, and continued to cough and hiccup against his neck. 

Not sure how these things were supposed to go, his mind flashing to all the times he Naruto had sat crying in a tree or under his bed with frustration and despair…Naruto could only keep his arms around him tight, and wait for some sign of what to do next. He felt a little alone, very dysfunctional, and slightly proud. His chest was nearly completely healed up, and he was sure some of his blood was on Gaara by now.

It seemed to last forever, but after about half an hour Gaara calmed down, out of energy to even think or feel. Gently, Naruto reached a hand down to find the back of his thighs, and tried to pull him out. By degrees, he realized the shrimp, Naruto, tried to carry him, Gaara, who was still a little taller and heaver than him. He couldn't even laugh.

On autopilot, Gaara pulled a leg over the bath wall, onto the floor, and then the other one. His feet were still wet even if the rest of him had dried off, and the tile was very cold. Leaning against Naruto, led by Naruto, he somehow found himself on his bed with Naruto laying next to him. He hadn't let go of him. The whole time, he hadn't let go of Naruto. 

Naruto offered a weak smile to him, even though the skin around Gaara's eyes was darker than usual and his eyes were runny and red from crying. Even though Gaara probably couldn't feel a thing. 

Gaara sighed loudly and hiccupped, closed his eyes briefly to dig his head against Naruto's chest, both arms still locked tight around him, and wedged a leg between Naruto's and pressed down and close in every way he could to try and keep him there as long as he could. 

Naruto couldn't even think of a good crack to make about Gaara being naked. And it wasn't even really funny.

He totally out of his depth. He was out to sea without even a matchstick.

Moving on bare bone instinct and empathy, he wrapped one arm around the bare back and looped one leg over Gaara's hip, head coming down so he breathed in the smell of the other boy's hair and skin. Belatedly, he raised his hand to Gaara's temple, and tried to enter his mind.

He was very surprised that all gates were open. 

Internally, everything was in chaos. It looked like one of his earlier mistakes, one where the cell packets that enclose memory and information and smell and feeling just break and all crowd and swim together in current consciousness. He tried to ignore it, ignore the desolation and despair he could _feel_ radiating sickly off the pile of mess, and just moved straight towards the old fireball. Which no longer looked dead. 

The demon wasn't active, not yet, but it was about to be. It smelled spilt blood, inside Gaara's mind and on Naruto's shirt, and it wanted some. It was the first time Naruto would have to hold the demon forcibly, and he quickly made the first move.

Far away in his own mind, he could feel Nine Tails stir to watch Gaara, watch the demon, and watch him. Watch him for his feelings and thoughts and perceptions. He could feel the fox's confusion, and interest. It nearly mirrored his own. And then Nine Tails slid from his mind.

Gaara breathed.

***

Play flashback: 

"Yo stupid!"  

He mentally winced, and slid his eyes open, ears pricked.  The ground was surprisingly close to his face.  His body hummed with adrenalin, with bloodlust and exertion, scored in places where the enemy's attacks had caught him.  There…was a sensation.  A strange sensation.

He struggled up to one arm slowly, grunting.

He was Gaara of the Sand.  He didn't feel pain.  He didn't feel anything.

Funnily enough though, he seemed to feel a lot more now.  Now that he had started working with Naruto.  He was trembling.  And he hurt all over, even though he wasn't supposed to.  He wasn't too accustomed to dealing with physical pain; there had never been a need for it.  He had never really learned how.

***

The woman screamed at them, screamed at Naruto at the top of her lungs so low Gaara could barely hear it at the distance.  Short, disheveled, with a Stone hitae head band clutched tightly in one fist, screaming mad at Naruto with tears running down her face, this woman of sixteen years, with a background of flame and rubble everywhere at her feet.

"You monster!  I hate you!  My family is dead because of you!"

Naruto stopped, startled dumbstruck; Gaara watched at a distance.  Naruto stared at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly slack, with blood on his shoes and ash in his hair.  Naruto blinked a couple times, before walking over to her carefully, as if in awe.

"Bastard!  I'm not afraid of you!  You can't hurt me, you hear?  You can't!"

Regardless, the woman of sixteen years stepped back a few steps yelling at him, before stopping and rallying herself, crouched, angry and absolutely vulnerable as she trembled.  The fox boy stopped a few feet in front of her, slightly shorter than she was, and looking a great deal younger than the woman did.  

A couple of inches would have been helpful right then, because Naruto had to look up in order to meet her in the eyes.

Then he laughed.  Laughed out loud; a fast explosion that ended just as quickly, Naruto moving quickly until he yanked her hard by her hair, pushing her down to her knees so he could look down into _her_ eyes.  

Naruto was grinning demonically as he spoke softly to her words Gaara couldn't make out, even if he had tried.  Still smiling that soft, amused smile as he kissed her lightly on the lips, but letting it linger.  That same confused but intangible feeling of chakra being rerouted, controlled but not contained rippled through Gaara's nerves before Naruto dropped her body.  She was dead before she hit the ground, Gaara knew.

"Enjoy that, did you?"

"Tactless.  You wasted time."

"It's mine to waste.  And I don't see what you're complaining about.  You've done worse."

"What about you?  Did you enjoy doing that?"

There was a pause.

"What do you care?"

Gaara didn't answer.

***

"Hey dummy!  What the hell are you waiting around for?"

Gaara's eyes snapped open, recognizing the voice.  Naruto...Naruto was coming.  Naruto was coming dammit and he was helpless!  Had to get up, had to get up before he saw, before he saw he was open that he was vulnerable dammit he had to get up and what the fuck was up with his leg!

Gaara grunted softly, one leg gradually bent under him with his good arm supporting his balance, struggling from hand to knee and from there to foot where he could be standing at least dammit he had to get up he had to get up why the fuck couldn't he move more...

...Naruto couldn't see him like this.  

He wasn't weak, dammit, but he certainly did look like it, nearly crumpled on the ground and if Naruto saw then he'd try and hurt him like everyone else did.  He was Gaara of the Sand.  He didn't feel pain.  He didn't know weakness.  He could stand and he could kill, and Naruto would never dare hurt him or he'd tear the kyubbi's arms out of their scrawny sockets.

A hand gripped him hard by his shoulder, yanked him up.

He was Gaara of the Sand.  No one touched him.  

He reacted.

"Watch it stupid!  They're coming, we can't hang around anymore.  We did what we came to do, lets go already!"

"Let me go."

"Come on--"

"I said don't _touch_--"

"Shit!  You fucker what the...Fine!  Fine whatever but come on we gotta go _now_.  They're nearly here.  I can smell them...come on."

Naruto hadn't let go of Gaara's wrist, but it was the last time he had ever tried to carry him, or to force him to do anything Gaara hadn't wanted to do.  Gaara hadn't asked for more.

***

Return to present.

***

Gaara stirred to consciousness. 

Around him, he could feel his energy ripple and rock. His body felt whole, limp and relaxed and eager to move and just as eager to linger and his mind relaxed and coming to alertness, and he was sleeping--he _had been sleeping in Naruto's arms. _

He was…he still was in Naruto's arms. Loosely. But still there. 

Naruto who…bits of recollection tumbled out of the closet. Naruto, Naruto who had betrayed him. Pain. Burning. A rescue and the stabbing…Naruto. And after that…after that…

After that he had dreamt, and the memories were still fresh in his mind. Naruto sighed loudly in his ear. 

"Four whole days…I thought you were finally running for the home stretch of a whole week this time."

Naruto's voice drawled lazily, that irritating smile resounding in the harmonics. He was actually bracing himself for another attack; Gaara's power was back, and the whole room was drenched in sand. He could be seriously screwed quite quickly. 

Blinking, Gaara collected more memory, feeling himself swamped yet comfortably floating on top of everything. Gaara moved, but unexpectedly. 

Completely avoiding Naruto's eyes, he slid his muscles smoothly until he locked his chin and throat over Naruto's shoulder, and his arms and legs wrapped around him tightly, almost in some sort of martial hold.

Naruto tensed, but Gaara's chakra stayed low, and he wasn't armed or hitting him so…He swallowed nervously, and Gaara was in exactly the right spot to hear it and feel his throat move. Gingerly, Naruto patter him awkwardly on the back, before surprising both of them and squeezing Gaara affectionately back once. 

Naruto blinked and smiled lopsidedly--hell if _he knew what was going on in his own head. Gaara jumped slightly, and tried to cling closer, but his hold relaxed somewhat. _

Neither got hugged very often. Neither was planning to let go soon.

He felt one of Gaara's hands leave his back and heard it move up towards his neck, but didn't touch him again. He smiled lightly. "Yeah, it's like that all over. You're nearly all healed, but it's gonna take some time for the marks to fade." Gaara shifted, and his hand came to back to cling to Naruto's back. 

Slowly, Naruto's fingers traced idly along his back, and up to thread his fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck. He'd never felt Gaara this relaxed. This relaxed or this… friendly. Gaara never touched him willingly, Gaara never touched _anyone_ willingly. Very strange. He was almost afraid to know what was going on in his mind. Playfully, he drummed his fingers along his vertebrae.

"Gonna get dressed anytime soon, or are you just gonna wander around naked?"

There was a nervous pause.

"It bothers you?"

Naruto raised one eyebrow and pursed his lips together. It wasn't like Gaara to ask questions, much less for people's opinions.

"No, not really, but you might give somebody a heart attack, you know? Or you'll get cold."

The air nearly shimmered with energy, and Naruto next to him was warm. It was one of the strange things of the boy; his body always was a little warmer than normal. At least it seemed that way to Gaara.

"I'm not cold." Gaara's voice was quiet, dark yet not evil. Just contemplative, and moving lazily, sleepily. He was gentle, for Gaara anyway. And Naruto couldn't argue with that last sentence. Gaara wasn't cold. His skin was warm under his fingers, and through his clothes.

"Take off your jacket, it hurts."

The hair on the back of Naruto's neck stood up. Requests that like that made him nervous. He kept most his weapons and wards in his jacket; it made them easier to access, and even the material itself was magically valuable. When he changed forms, his other clothes ripped and got lost, but he could always find his red blazer somewhere close by. Besides, people didn't ask other people to take off their clothes for no reason. And yet…Gaara was probably right, there was enough stuff in there to probably be poking at him everywhere, he was gripping him so tight. 

"Ahh…Actually I gotta get up," Naruto said wincing at the automatic clenching of Gaara's limbs around him, actually causing him pain. 

"I've been here too long, and god knows how everything looks out there, it's a real mess." Gaara didn't let go. Naruto clumsily rubbed his hands over his back. "I've gotta go fix things, ok? You can stay here a bit longer, but I've got my work cut out for me…._Gaa~aara…Please? You're hurting me…Come on, please?"_

Gaara didn't move stubbornly, and then just shook his head into Naruto's chest. Naruto's whole body slumped and pouted, and his voice was sulky and flat. "Come on, let go…It's not like I won't come _back…If you don't let go, I'll tickle you. I swear I will." That was as close as a threatening voice Naruto could ever get, in Gaara's opinion. He wasn't even ticklish. _

Naruto frowned, and began to poke and brush his fingers along Gaara's ribs, frowned, swore softly so Gaara could hear it and then just began to push hard against his arms and chest and kick his way out. It was like trying to push a mountain away, and getting him nowhere but flustered and a little hot, and Gaara didn't seem bothered by it at all…

"If you don't let go I'm gonna kick something important!"

…So it came as a surprise to Naruto to find himself flipped flat on his back with Gaara's hands pushing his biceps into the mattress, and his mouth completely covering his.

Naruto's body went absolutely _rigid with shock, so straight it could have been used as a ruler by any who cared to. His eyes remained absolutely open, a look of mild surprise on his face, and every muscle locked into place. His heart and mind skipped a beat, and it took a few precious seconds to realize what had shocked him and what was happening now. _

His nerves were registering gentleness, hardness made soft, warmth, and a kind of pressing coy insistence on his lips that had previously always attracted Naruto, and one smooth warm finger was stroking him tantalizing soft and teasing under his chin and along his jaw line, which was Nine Tails' and his shared erogenous spot. His arms felt cool. His jacket had been taken off. 

He didn't even--Gaara must've _really paid attention to take his jacket off without getting caught with something sharp. Warm hardness was pressing down on his chest, over his left nipple through his shirt, and was rubbing in small hard circles over it; teasing him without changing the intensity or giving him any kind of relief. A tongue pressed between his lips, warm and gentle yet demanding entrance. _

Gaara was going incredibly slow, taking his time to explore Naruto's mouth and teeth and lips, his hands trailing lightly over his skin, leaving Naruto's hands free and giving his mouth time and opportunity to push and reply back.

Naruto closed his eyes tight and kept his body rigid. It felt like…he had to push down his voice. Pushed it down hard, and his hands wanted to run out the door and take the rest of him with them.

_//Sasuke…//_

He hadn't said it, or given any real hints, but Gaara wasn't an idiot. He was paranoid and reckless and lonely. And he noticed that Naruto never opened his eyes. Or had said his name. Or touched or kissed him back. He had been watching for that. Even now, cheeks flushed and breathing heavily, he still wasn't looking at Gaara. Because it was Sasuke he wanted to see. Not Gaara.

Gaara sat up smoothly, neatly onto his heels, hands in front of him and discreetly hiding his groin. He hated himself. He hated Naruto. He _really hated Sasuke. But that was his life. He should have gotten use to it by now. _

_//You were never loved!_//

//_This is it.  Please die_.//

_Bitterness, helplessness, denial, anger, hatred, envy, jealousy, hunger, desire, affection, confusion fuck fuck fuck fuck…_

Naruto's fingers trailed along the side of his neck. 

He'd opened his eyes, startled, shocked and breathless, and taken one look at Gaara's face and knew he was going to leave. Not just leave as in leave the room, or the bed, or the castle. Really leave. He was going to go. Abandon. Leave it all, fall completely. He'd seen that look too many times in the mirror in too many places before, and he'd come to hate and fear it. A look of anger and agitation, helplessness. It looked different on Gaara; distant, and instead of fear there was resentment. 

Naruto instantly reached out.

Gaara and Naruto had been alone so much in their lives that a gentle touch could move the sun backwards. It was stronger than reason and more potent than force or magic. They would bend over backwards and through time just to feel it. Iruka had proved that through Naruto. Anything for a gentle touch. Anything and everything, but baby love me do. Please.

Just a gentle touch, just along his neck and jaw line. Keep it innocent, keep it simple. Doing fine. 

The effects were obvious: Gaara's arms immediately slackened, bringing him a tiny bit closer, his face fumbled the mask for a split second, too quick to learn anything. But his eyes were no longer nailed on the wall and the door, but flickering between his neck, the bed, and the wall. He laid his hands flat carefully on his thighs. 

Naruto's lips still tingled with the taste-sensation, unwanted memories of him awkwardly and brashly investigating the brothel house and Gaara's disgust.  Disgust with his human weakness, his need, Gaara had said.  Disgusted because Naruto _wanted_ it...he had said.

Looking as fragile and nervous now as he did was a big slap in the face to his off-hand disdain.

"I didn't know,"

was all Naruto could say, as softly and gently as he dared. Play it cool until you know the stakes. He couldn't say he returned it because he didn't know what _it_ was. He had nothing to apologize for. He still wasn't quite sure what was going on, except that something important had just happened. Gaara's response surprised him.

"I know."

His voice was hard, flat, like it didn't matter whether or not if Naruto knew or not. It was all expected. It was all ordained, it was all destiny, it was all fate. It didn't matter what he did, it didn't matter what Naruto said. This always happened. This always _would happen._

Naruto put his hand firmer on Gaara's skin and continued to wander slowly. What the hell was going on?

The question Naruto _really_ wanted to ask went something like, "How long has this gone on?" and "What is this?", and "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Anyone else he could curse, belittle, hurt and glorify in it, in his power over them.  

Limp thin strands of blood red hair against porcelain skin scribbled here and there with fading burns.  Solid lime cat's-eyes darting here and there like a sparrow caught in a trap.  

Gaara had given him that power.  Given.  Not lightly, or foolishly, or blindly.  Given.  With an idea of what Naruto could do to him every time he closed his eyes and either not caring or...

Tanned fingers slipped along his skin, lightly touching his ear.  

Who would ever trust a demon?  

Honor among thieves.  

The phantom taste of human blood still slumped on the back of his throat.  Wondering, rather cynically, why any idiot on this earth would ever dare to trust him, with anything.  Especially something like this, whatever it was.

"What is it you want?" Gaara's eyes narrowed, but he didn't answer, and kept his eyes on the corner of the room. "If I can give it to you, I will, I promise," something in Naruto tensed, ears flattened and Gaara remained unmoved. "I'll try."

"Are we making some kind of deal?" Gaara snapped sharply, quickly, his eyes finally locking with Naruto's and flinching. 

_//No,//_ Naruto wanted to say. //_But it kinda is in a way…//_

Gaara kept staring, kept glaring down at Naruto, his gaze like a knife cutting him apart to see what was underneath. He came to a decision.

"Sasuke's here," he said flatly.

Naruto's reply was deplorably quick. "How did you know?"

Gaara seemed to fade back into himself.

"I didn't. I guessed."

Gaara was fast, but Naruto was on edge and expecting it. Chakra energy pooled and swirled into sand whirlwinds immediately, but froze and fell apart almost instantly. Gaara's hands, nearly invincible and strong, were pressed flat and helpless against Naruto's shirt. He could easily pull back and hit him in the gut. Easily send it right through his body.  Hurt him; kill him in a million ways easily.  

Of course Naruto was fighting dirty.

One hand firmly caressed his naked hip; the other holding his arm in place and his mouth was tap dancing on his ear. Gaara's cheeks flushed in humiliation and desire, which caused another deeper, further flush all over his body when he realized he had. His eyes widened as Naruto began to use his tongue, fingers trailing lightly, clumsily along his side and back, reminding him exactly how vulnerable and naked he was, while the other was close to leaving bruises and trailing too far over his hip in either direction. 

_//It's a game. It's all a game! Get away, hurry, before it comes! //_

His hands pushed away hard at Naruto. Naruto pressed his chest into his hands. Gaara jerked his head away; Naruto fell upon his neck, making every hair stand up straight and tickle. Gaara viciously shoved down a whimper when Naruto started to use his teeth, which Naruto still heard.

"Stop!" Gaara pushed hard and got some space, and tried to look away, tried to look at anything _but the demon boy before him, dully shocked at how high and small his voice sounded. How weak. How lost._

Naruto kept his grip on his hip, and moved forward. "Stop it, stop teas--" Gaara slammed his mouth shut. His voice didn't sound like that. His voice didn't _sound_ like that. Desperate. Hungry. Afraid. So damnably _young. Naruto watched him sharply. _

"What do you want?" Naruto repeated, but his voice lost the gentleness. It was darker, sharper, and far too close to him. 

"Can't you read my mind! Don't you know?" 

His voice didn't sound like that. Hysterical. Weak.  That wasn't him. That wasn't him. He was Gaara of the Sand, that voice wasn't him.  Why couldn't Naruto leave him alone? What was going on? What was going on? He didn't want him, he wanted Sasuke, why wouldn't he let him go? Why why why?…

No.

No. Of course the ass hole would tease him like this; would tease him and give him a little taste, a little lick, make him whimper and beg and smile and then saunter back to that _human fucker Sasuke!_ __

"No. I can't," Naruto replied too calmly for Gaara's taste, too innocent. 

"I never really could," he continued. 

Gaara snapped his head up. "You get into it every night! You go through it every night!" 

//_You get into **me every night. You get ****through me every night. How dense can you be? How can you not know?/**_/

Naruto's look was puzzling, and strangely innocent. "Yeah, but I can't read it." Gaara looked ready to hit him. 

"I can read normal people's, but people like you…You've got two souls in you. I can't read you at all like that. I can get into you because you let me, I can push you, but most of it doesn't make any sense to me. I don't go looking around, you told me not to. You have to tell me what you want, or else I can't know."

Gaara was still staring at him, but didn't look ready to kill him anymore. He wanted to swear. He wanted to swear _badly. But he couldn't think of a single word to express himself. Naruto was slowly losing hope, and gently tried an old trick. _

Fingers brushed lightly against his neck, while his hip was still being gripped.

No warning given.

Naruto thumped back heavily against the pillows, his mouth full of Gaara and his shirt roughly being taken from his body. He tried to yell but the sound didn't come out right, and he winced as he heard the fabric ripped. He liked that shirt! Hot wide hands pushed him down hard, and he began to really struggle when his pants became looser and more active.

Naruto broke off the kiss sharply and arched his head back; his face a rictus of pain while his open mouth gulped the air. Gaara watched dispassionately from above, and began to really squeeze and stroke in earnest. Naruto's head tossed and his body twisted while his stomach sucked itself in on some reflex while he tried to dig his heels into the mattress even as Gaara forced him down. Odd, choked sounds were coming from his throat, the final one very clear and angry as Gaara's hands were dipping into his mouth instead of his pants, leaving him hot and helpless and wanting.

A half-human cry scratched at Gaara's ears before he was thrown hard onto his back, his constant fear and apprehension exploding and being repressed in a sea-sickening instant when he couldn't feel Naruto _anywhere only to have his mouth invaded by a hot warm slippery sliding tongue fighting and beating and seducing his own, Naruto's body only coming to cover his. _

Gaara moaned into his throat, felt his skin shiver and every fiber quiver a few times hard right before Naruto smoothed his skin down hard the wrong way with a burning hurting luscious touch.

Just like Naruto needed Gaara as a ruler to measure against, Gaara used Naruto…Gaara used Naruto…Gaara _needed_ Naruto to tell him where the ground was. To keep him from floating above it and getting shot and from sinking below it and suffocating. Naruto was the filter, a compass between light and darkness and human and demon. Gaara hated people, but alone--completely alone--he didn't know what to do. He didn't know where to go.

And since Naruto had needed him, since Naruto had wanted him…Everything just fell together. It had fit like good socks. 

And Gaara was afraid, because he never wanted to let go. 

Two of a kind.

Things worked. 

For the first time, he was almost happy. Almost. 

He was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, always waiting for the hangover after his three year drinking binge of laughter and sleep and near companionship. He didn't let himself be happy, because he'd known it would hurt when he let go. It always hurt. It always hurt like hell, and worse.

It was seduction in its purest form: You went out on a limb and jumped because you wanted someone and hoped like hell he would catch you when you fell. 

But sometimes, you weren't caught. Sometimes you fell.

He'd kissed Naruto gently because that's how he liked it, had teased him gently because he'd known it would get Naruto going, just like it had in his dream, his dream just before he had awoken in Naruto's arms; where Naruto touched and tasted and talked to him in the sweetest, filthiest ways like no one ever had, like no one had ever dared, and Naruto was at the same time holding him loosely in his arms, just being content doing nothing with Gaara, doing nothing at all, just being with Gaara. 

It had a waking dream, but he hadn't known that. One had been real and the other hadn't but he'd felt the same way for both. 

But it didn't work, did it? No, it hadn't. All that wanting and planning and dreaming and damning he'd done, all reaching out for a single flame in the darkness hell he'd always known and his hand had been slapped away. Because of Sasuke. All because of Sasuke.

Sasuke who was completely human.

Sasuke who was admired.

Sasuke who was so much more weaker than him.

If Naruto hadn't grabbed Gaara when he had, hadn't touched him when he had, yes, he would have run, would've run and kept running until he reached the ends of the world, and even then he would've kept running, but he would have _killed_ Sasuke before he left. And if Naruto killed him afterward it wouldn't matter because Gaara was done living anyway. 

He hadn't even been completely sure this was happening, that this wasn't still another game of Naruto's. So he had teased him, just to see what would happen. Because after being alone so long, both boys didn't really believe anybody would ever, _could ever_, take an honest interest in them. And Naruto had proved him wrong.

A sound from the dark sweaty jungles of human-subconscious ripped through Naruto's throat, when Gaara was slammed on his back, sweating fear and fervent desire from every pore in his body as his mouth was attacked viciously, and even as he struggled for a way out, a way back into control, his hands threaded through Naruto's hair and rubbed hastily over his shoulders and back, trying to push him down, trying to push him closer, trying to keep him from leaving. 

Naruto did get up, his eyes dark and narrow, his features less and less human by the second, and Gaara sat up instantly and moved to grab him when he heard something flop against the floor, and was slammed roughly back into the mattress again.

Light flared in his eyes then, and then tendrils of sand worked their way around and over the bed, slowly, stealthily, but definitely moving into place. And then Naruto sank his teeth into the junction of his shoulder and neck. Gaara went rigid, and the sand nearly went wild, combusting and shivering and only a tiny bit of control kept it from attacking completely. Naruto's teeth were actually in his skin, they were actually _under his skin. _

Fear, horror, was all overrun by a deep, reverberating tingle-touch of pleasure and Gaara felt something dark in the back of his mind stir, felt something crunch and unbend, and tilted his head further to give Naruto more access even while his hands slowly moved to cover his back and hold his neck there, hold his head in place to keep him from leaving again leaving like they always did, all the time wondering where the hell he had such a sick and kinky streak. It…was painful, it did hurt, and it was highly uncomfortable, but the things that were reacting in his stomach…in his mind…

Even in his blood, everything felt warmer and keener, and Gaara blinked in bewilderment and just tried to hold on and feel without getting hurt.

But…Naruto was still there. Naruto was staying. And somehow…that made everything worth a little pain.

Smoothly, slowly, Naruto licked his neck, absolutely _washed his neck, gliding over the curves and tendons and virgin skin never touched this way before, because nobody else ever would have dared._

Gaara moaned hard, painfully hard, and trembled violently.

Slowly, he felt Naruto's head lift, and struggled to open his eyes that were so very heavy to stare in confusion and drowning desire at eyes that were glinting bright and brilliant, completely dark blue light. Naruto stuck his tongue out and licked the corner of his mouth even while his lips turned up into a smile, a look of absolute pleasure etched on his face. 

Lips that were deceptively soft and yielding touched his, and he opened his mouth willingly, eagerly, and tasted his own blood on Naruto's tongue, felt his life essence offered to him. Gaara accepted, pushed against him harder as he tried to kiss him deeper, more aggressively, more violently, and finally bit into his bottom lip, rejoicing when the blood came out and coated over his tongue. His tongue that was still brushing with Naruto's, still caressing and welcoming Naruto's who was completely dominating and controlling him and somehow…

Gaara didn't care at all.

Gaara leaned back as his mouth was gently left, his shoulders and collarbone were further explored and cherished, his hands touching and caressing the flowing muscle in Naruto's back, feeling the hard sharp shoulder blades, probing between his vertebrae, feeling the sheer amount of strength and promise born flesh right under his skin and the feeling of somebody else. Their chests so very close together that they were touching, he could feel everything and anything and as he was bombarded by a million overwhelming sensations he remembered only the miniscule, the fact that he could feel every time Naruto inhaled and his heart beat and Naruto could surely feel each and every time _he_ breathed in, his lungs failing and surviving in some sickly sweet game of Keep Away, and Naruto could surely feel everything Gaara was doing.

Naruto broke off the kiss to breath in deeply right by his ear, deep and thirsty, crying softly and clenching gently when Gaara's hands explored further down his back, right down to his ass that he squeezed hard in his hand and felt the flesh yield and fight him, scratching with his nails until he scored the skin and blood swelled up and filled beneath his fingernails. His other hand scratched hard down along Naruto's back, making him arch down and twist slightly, his body heaving in controlled intervals. 

Naruto pushed down, laying flat against Gaara, Gaara who was licking his cheekbones in wide strokes, his heart beating a hard _lub-dub, lub-dub, so hard he couldn't hear anything else but his heart beat and feel Gaara's hands on him, Gaara under him rippling and burning and throbbing._

Reluctantly he moved his body away a little, slightly thrilled when Gaara jerked and tried to grab him, thinking he was going away, needing his company, just his company, so very badly. With a ruffled grin Naruto sloppily kissed the center of Gaara's chest, licking hard and using the rough back of his tongue to get as much as his skin and his sweat in his mouth as he could, feeling the surface rise as Gaara inhaled quickly as he registered what Naruto was doing and began to regularly shudder and throb and squirm beneath him, his hands scratching Naruto's neck until blood came and smeared on his skin and on his hands, the smell tainting the air. 

The smell of demon blood just barely touching the air.

***

This bit of the story has been removed due to censorship regulations, and can found at my wonderful archiver websites:

www.blue-black.net

I recommend reading the complete edition, since it makes the story make sense.  If you have problem accessing the website or finding the missing chapter, feel free to email me at gelfling8604@yahoo.com and I'll send it to you directly.

***

Gaara drifted to waking reluctantly, feeling he was missing something important, something he should have remembered. For several seconds, he thought he had done something wrong again. Something bad, while he was asleep.

Sultry baby blue eyes glimmered at him lazily.

On the ceiling were shiny splats of wet glass and other bits of half-melted sand, creating a frieze on the walls and slopped on the floor and corners like drifted feather snow and dirt. They had melted the whirling sand without ever--without Gaara ever realizing it. His best weapon, only defense, had been turned to a shiny trimming without him ever realizing it. Without him ever caring. 

He still didn't care.

A mouth closed over his, slowly playing with his tongue, poking it and nibbling his bottom lip between his teeth, letting the new saliva seep into his mouth wetly, warmly. Gaara moaned again--that seemed all he _could do--and opened his mouth and returned the kiss, his tongue chasing Naruto's back into his own mouth, lazily moving against him, moving with him._

Fingers whispered into the inside of his thigh, and Gaara realized he could do more than moan. He could gasp.

***

A/N: Gaara-kun's so CUTE!  I'm worried that I'm doing him OCC by making him too mushy, but all the chances to be violent have already come and he did them, so now we'll just have to wait until there's more.  Naruto-san's gonna be sort of OCC anyway, but that gets explained (hopefully ^^;;) as time goes on, and I think Sasuke is doing okay so far.  He's hard no matter what, but I think what I have is okay.


	8. I: Elvis Is Dead

Author is doing chibi-conga dance currently.  Story has been safely archived and saved from evil clutches of Censorship.  *glomps archivers and shoves Squeezy Cheese bottles into their refrigerators for good luck and better food*  And I'm SUPER glad everybody liked the last chappie ^__^;;  Makes me much happy.

Heaven knows how you lied to me

You're not the way you seem

You look like an angel

Walk like an angel

Talk like an angel

But I've got mind

You're the devil in disguise

I thought that I was in Heaven

But I was sure surprised

Heaven help me, I didn't see it

The devil in your eyes

--Elvis, _Devil In Disguise_

A/N: I have the feeling I've unnerved some people *evil grin*, but I could be wrong.  I've also made a fair amount of Gaara and NaruGaara fans against their will *SUPER evil grin* and have somehow made people hate Sasuke.  I'm not sure how, but I did.  I wasn't trying to.  I thought how to make it SasuNaru and a happy Gaara last Monday though; it's gonna be…new.  

In Ch.6, the Sasuke in Gaara's cell was Naruto in disguise.  No SasuGaara.  To answer Bronze Eagle's question: Sasuke does _not_ know what happened to the village.  He has an idea.  He does not _know_.  That was important for _this_ chappie, so I really wanted to get that out.

Attraction is Vignette's semi companion/sequel fic; people are asking me to continue that one, but that one continues _here_.  I know I never stated that one in Vignette, but I'm trying to keep a low profile with Attraction anyway (I am paranoid).   But I love my reviewers dearly; I try to deliver well.

I listened to Sade writing this.  Yeah.  And some Lilo and Stitch from Disney.  Yep.

GO READ CH2!  I'VE IMPROVED IT!

***

Attraction 

By gelfling

gelfling8604@yahoo.com

//_Thoughts//_

_::Invading thoughts_::

***

Dear Diary, I know better than to simply assume a complete justification for my actions, but…What a week.  What a great fuckin' week.

--Johnny The Homicidal Maniac, _JTHM: Director's Cut_ by Jhohen Vasquez

If you are the only one talking then it is a clue that no conversation is occurring and it is time to leave.

--Dogbert, _Dilbert_, Scott Adams

Nonsensical?!  Yet you envy me!  You wish to wipe my ass, butter my groin!!!  Oh you hermaphroditic monkeys you speak with fool's tongues!!!  That's a nice tie!!

--Happy Noodle Boy, _JTHM: Director's Cut_ by Johen Vasquez__

***

It was a very good thing he couldn't sleep anyway.  With the way Gaara was just taking up his energy, it'd be a while before he could even _walk_ straight.  Of course…that wasn't such a bad thing either.  

Things must be up in hell outside by now, with all that land and stuff and opportunity, and not him or Gaara doing a thing to defend it or keep the other little ankle-biter's mitts off of it, but Naruto didn't really care about that either.  An empire could function without some leadership for a couple days, couldn't it?  Enough time for him to get himself back together.  …Enough time to forget, and just enjoy the present.

Naruto opened his eyes muzzily, still pretty worn out but not at all sleepy.  He had been having trouble sleeping for a while now, ever since that damned--_thing_, but…Gaara was slowly changing that.  He couldn't express how grateful he was for that, for the chance to sleep again; the gift he gave to Gaara was being given back to him, and he appreciated the irony with a slight smile.

Fingers caressed along his left cheekbone, the calluses on the thumb scratching against his whisker marks.  The corner of Naruto's mouth lifted lazily, and fingers ran along his lower lip.

Delicate, straw-like pieces of glass hung from the ceiling like icicles, and Naruto's gaze wafted over them lazily.  Most of Gaara-san's sand was melted there; it wouldn't be hard for him to get more, but it said something about how long they had been lodged up there.  They both had a demon's stamina and lust, and thankfully their regeneration abilities as well.  

Naruto had some rather severe scars running down his back that were quickly becoming no more than new skin, bruises on his hips, shoulders, sometimes his neck and fading to obscurity; Gaara's skin was a bit more impressive, mostly because of his pale skin color.  He had bite marks lining his skin, especially deep ones around his neck, not much more than angry red semi-circles that faded by the hour.  

Gaara of the Sand and ivory skin, with eyes the color of light jade in the darkness that seemed to glow with a light of their own, and hair a deep, deep impossible hue of red scarlet crimson that always looked a tangled and wild soft and twisted between his fingers.  Gaara, who didn't laugh or smile, but caught every small twitch and the slightest gesture, and responded to anything.

Blood had crested lightly over the sheets, sticky with semen and sweat, and Naruto shifted his shoulder blades, his skin brushing against Gaara's.  He smiled to himself.  

//_Life, is very, very, good_.//

Warm, humid sensation covered his mouth, and Naruto leaned into it without hesitating, sighing softly through his nose, relaxed and feeling for one rare instant that he _belonged_.  He laughed softly to himself, the vibration tingling Gaara's lips.

 Sanctuary.  

Who would have guessed he would find it here?

***

Sasuke was awake.  

Naruto had been shoving his left arm into his red duster outside of Gaara's bedroom door—finally, but he'd be back pretty damn quick--when Temari nearly careened into him.  He had grinned nastily to himself, unable to hold back.

He'd been 'friendly' with nearly every girl on the compound, Temari alone excepted, nearly isolated from the whole of the female group.  One might even say she had been discriminated against, the poor girl.  Gaara got irritable and jealous whenever he saw them in the same _room_ together not even talking.  Naruto had thought it had been brotherly possessiveness.  He hadn't guessed it might have been jealously.  

He didn't hold back a snicker.  He was feeling very good.

Temari hadn't really cared.

Sasuke was awake.  Sasuke was awake, and the staff had been told _by_ Naruto-sama that he wasn't to be hurt _or_ touched so they were trying hard _not_ to but he had already killed one woman and injured two men and if Naruto-sama didn't come quite quickly things were going to get _undoubtedly_ interesting very quickly.  

Naruto had come quite quickly, and things really were as Temari had said.  And now some of his people were back in the familiar old infirmary and Sasuke was taking another induced nap with a growing bump on the back of his head and _another_ nasty gash along his arm.  

Naruto moved him from his bedroom, and placed him in slightly more secure surroundings.  

Good ole Sasuke-kun.  You could always count on him for the fireworks, you most certainly could.

The castle-fortress had been wormed and developed into the mountain itself; when Naruto came, he had done a little more renovating and a lot of discovering, but mostly had left everything as it was.  It even had _plumbing_!

Naruto had moved him quite some distance underground, the air dead for years with solid stone all around.  Of course the castle-fortress would have a dungeon, leaky old cellars fitted with bars, but they weren't used too often.  Sasuke had to be the first actual prisoner they'd taken in months.

Naruto relaxed against the far wall and watched Sasuke behind the bars, bruised and aching, half-asleep on his cell's stone bunk roughly hewed out of the wall.

Black eyes opened, winced, and closed again.  But Sasuke's body itself didn't move, and he studied his surroundings from beneath lowered lashes.  There had been…

Pain.  There had been a lot of pain.  There still was, drumming on his arm bones but it was dulled now.  His head ached and vision was blurred; he had been knocked unconscious.  There had been…

Fire.  Lots of fire; so much of it that it had browned his skin, scarred it.  There had been ash in the air so thick he couldn't breathe.  And he had been angry.  He had been so very angry that he hadn't cared at all.  There had been…

Fever.  A bed.  The smell of smoke and burnt flesh.  

There had been that kid.  That blonde kid, that _stupid_ blonde kid, the one he didn't want to remember.  That he didn't want to believe.  

Some things weren't meant to be.

What Sasuke needed was a vacation.  What he _got_, was that stupid blonde kid smirking at him from far away being the first thing he saw when it was the last thing Sasuke never wanted to see at all.  It grinned at his expression; the one in his eyes, Sasuke's face was blank.

"So...I take you're still angry then?" Naruto asked politely, tone absolutely sincere and lips breaking out into an outrageous smile. 

Sasuke didn't see reason to answer; wouldn't give him the satisfaction of reacting. Naruto lowered his head as he scratched his jaw.

"Kinda figured you might be, seemed pretty predictable. Big effing surprise right?"

Naruto coughed, and made a failing attempt to compose himself.  

"The _real_ question is: how angry are you _really_? And how long will you be angry? Are we talking lifetime 'I hate you I'll kill you', angry or are we talking a month of PMSing and 'You jerk that was _my_ ice cream cone' angry? It's kind of important to me, see, so if we could just get over the particulars and get straight down to it, everything could be done a little sooner."

Naruto scratched idly at his collar, before scratching at his knuckles and wiping off some invisible substance from hand, his eyes never leaving Sasuke's. He wasn't moving a whole lot, but he did have his energy and strength back, even if they were cringingly raw and new. He wasn't worried, but Naruto was still on guard. 

_"Where am I?"_

_"What do you want?"_

_"What are you going to do?"_

_"Let me go!"_

Naruto was familiar with the usual menu of prisoners.  It wasn't really what he dealt with, wasn't something that was necessary.  When he wanted something, he took it.  Simple as that.  

Waiting was for other people.  

Naruto was _not_ other people; he never had been, even when he had tried, and he never would be.  He no longer cared.  He was himself and he _was_ power undeniable, both the mental and physical.  He had no equal.  Even Gaara, good old Gaara-kun with all his inborn superiority and natural dominance, knew that.  Neither human nor demon was a threat to him any longer; he was a superb hybrid of both, unlike anything the world had seen before.  In Hell and Earth, Naruto could rein supreme, a dark god among men.  And all it took was a knot and a twitch.

Sasuke would never see that.  He was—as always—gloriously blind.

This had been the second time Sasuke had attacked Naruto with intention to kill.  

The first time they had been children, and that had been out of jealousy and frustration, not angry _at_ Naruto but at the strength Naruto had, the potential he represented and Sasuke didn't have.  The power Sasuke _needed and the dobe just fooled around with carelessly.  The second time, just now, had been out of real anger, real grief.  A gnashing cold empty grief, frantic and sad, saying _No, no, this wasn't true this wasn't true_!!_

Deep grief.  Deep betrayal, deep loss.

Silence still.  Cold, dead, angry silence, since the moment Sasuke had awoken on cold stone in room with bars and with a creature he didn't want to recognize.  A creature grinning at him, leering at him, with painfully familiar blue eyes and flaxen hair he knew to be as soft as flannel beneath his fingers, wild and alive.    

Sasuke didn't answer.  Sasuke _wouldn't_ answer.

Naruto simply narrowed his eyes, a lazy smile still on his lips that he didn't feel.

"You know, as much as you love to play the hero," Naruto began slowly, as if reading off an invisible script.  "That isn't going to work here."

"You're alone here, you know.  I—sincerely _doubt_, that there's going to be any rescue mission of any kind, because, let's face it," Naruto shrugged, eyes met, held, neither showing anything but dead emptiness.  

"Everyone's dead."

Naruto waited for a reaction.  He continued to speak slowly, as if to an idiot or child.

"I know.  You can trust me on that one.  And, really, you don't have the power to get out of here all on your own.  I'm sure that bites into…some type of pride or whatever that you have but…  That's the truth."

Naruto's eyes were limp, and surprisingly candid.

"So…while I'm, absolutely certain, that you'd love to go down fighting…To go down in glory and flames rather than give in…That's really…not what's going to happen.  If you die here, no one will know.  If you die here, no one will also care," Naruto added with a faint wolfish smile.

The fox-boy lowered his head and laughed at a private joke.

"All your life…all your stupid life you've chased isolation, because you were too good for other people.  And now I've…quite nearly given it to you.  Isolation.  From inferiors…"  Naruto was grinning devilishly to himself, his eyes focused on nothing.  "What I'm not giving, you, is a choice."  

"You will cooperate, as I demand.  You will do, as I say.  You were spared because I _chose_ to do so, _not_ because I need you and certainly _not_ because I couldn't kill you."

"I killed the Hokage, Sasuke."  Naruto's smile was oily, syrupy sour and deadly.  "I  killed the Sennin.  I could probably even…" Naruto trailed off on purpose, dipping for a moment into Sasuke's mind.  The silence flipped around like a coin.

"…even take care of _your_ little problem, should I choose.  Since it might be a while before you can do it on your own."

_Now_ he had his full attention again; it had started to waver as Sasuke began looking for a way out, began thinking constructively.  He wasn't _here_ to think constructively.  He was here to keep Naruto amused.

It wasn't an interested audience so much as an angry one.  He had touched a nerve; it was impossible to bring that subject up _without_ touching a nerve, so Naruto hadn't bothered.

"If ever you _can_," Naruto finished.

Eyes like clean obsidian, like an ink kanji portrait on white rice paper with every curve just artistically, aesthetically pleasing, never too elaborate or too much.  Sasuke's outer beauty was moderation, conservation, while his inner beauty was fire and brutal emotions.

"What happened?"

His voice was still hoarse, wet and dry at the same time.  No equilibrium yet; not in his mind and not in his body.  He'd be sick for a while to come.  But not so sick as to be a problem for Naruto.  And he was thinking constructively again.  He wouldn't take Naruto on his word; wouldn't take _anyone_ on his or her word.  He did want to know what Naruto wanted him to know though.

Naruto frowned, his lips pursing and twisting in opposite directions.

"Oooohh…That's so much more complicated than it looks.  But I guess, you _could_ say that I…kind of bought my freedom.  Eternal.  Dating all the way back before you born Sasuke, I've bought my freedom from all the way back there."

Naruto waited; Sasuke kept playing along.  Good.  It'd be too quickly for him to go out on his own right now.

"You said…"

Naruto skimmed through his mind like an albatross over the ocean, picking up the stray fish.  He was studying the door lock now, as well as the width of the bars and style of hinges.

"That people died?  Yeah, they did…Nearly the whole village in fact," and Naruto was _deeply_ gratified to see a flash of emotion on Sasuke's face, in his eyes.  He wanted a camera to catch that look; _why_ hadn't he brought a camera?  "Maybe more, maybe less…   I am thinking _more_, though."

Sasuke stared at him piercingly, even with his weakness.

"I don't believe you."

"Sasuke," Naruto put a hand over his heart.  "You wound me.  Truly.  First I try to keep you safe and then you shove a katana straight through my heart," Naruto thumped his chest again.  "I'm hurt."

::_Really hurt_.::

Pain exploded in the corner of his neck, and Sasuke closed his eyes and winced.  //_Fire.  The Fox Demon had created the fire--//_

"The fox was me, baby."

---and Sasuke had seen the flames.  The village.  How was the village?  They weren't dead; they couldn't be dead.  They beat the Kyubbi once, they could do it again.  They weren't as weak as that.  It wasn't as simple as that.

Sasuke opened his eyes again, hand clutching the junction of his neck, fingers pressing into his skull to get rid of the pain.  Naruto was on his side of the bars, Sasuke noticed.  Inside the cell.  Still far away but…  How had he gotten inside?  When had he gotten inside?

"They beat the Kyubbi.  They didn't beat me.  You know that."

Naruto was still leaning backwards this time against the bars, arms crossed over his chest and leather red duster, blonde hair cut at uneven lengths, some strands hanging over his eyes but most of it hacked backwards behind his ears.  He was dressed again in old beaten gray clothes, with strapped up scuffed black boots crossed over one leg.  It was his face though that got Sasuke's attention.

His eyes were pale, regular blue, but very hard and blank, almost offensively blank.  The scratch marks were still on his cheeks, and he wasn't smiling.  

_//…that smell.  That smell is **him**.  That burning…//_  Sasuke lowered his eyes, flexed his sleeping fingers and felt them tingle.  Like burnt cinnamon and greasy blood, fried up nasty-like.  //_He was the burning.  Burnt human flesh.  He **still** smells like that, burnt blood.  Why?  How the fuck did…//_

_//…he's lying_.//

Naruto said nothing.

"…Where's Sakura?"

"She's dead too."  Naruto licked his finger and hissed, crushing his hand to a fist with a clapping sound.  "Out like a candle."

"Really."

"Yep."

"Sakura?"

"The one and the same.  Wear's a lot of pink.  Dead and cold and done.  Why?  You guys didn't get married without telling me, did you?"

Sasuke didn't answer, just stared at the offensively blank eyes that didn't move or breathe.   Sasuke raised an eyebrow.

No remorse, no emotion at all.  Fake amusement.  Naruto had loved her like she was…something really special.  Super special.  The adoration had been obscene, immense.  The blonde was crazy, but not that crazy.  There would be something left over, even if it was only the thrill of the kill.  There'd be something.  What he was saying…didn't seem real.

//_There's no reason for him to lie though.  He thinks he has the control.  No real reason to lie or persuade…  …Is there?  Does he still need something?  …Possibly.  Maybe_.//  

Sasuke was thinking, but Naruto was having some trouble following it.  It was like watching trout in a river; you knew it was there and where it was, but it was still bloody hard to see.

Sasuke made up his mind.  He still didn't believe him, Naruto noted.

The moment wasn't as explosively angry as Naruto had wanted; Sasuke had probably done that on purpose.

"Yeah.  That was you.  You did kill them."

"Didn't believe me?  Not even your own eyes?" Naruto asked coyly, tilting his head to the side, eyes suddenly bright.  "Don't tell me you tried to _protect_ me, did you?"

//_Again?  After all this time?  Everything I've done…Would you do that, Sasuke?  You'd do that for me?  Say you would, please, say you would_.//

"From what?" Sasuke asked with a slight frown.  "Didn't give you the credit you could do it.  Not on your own."  Sasuke's eyes narrowed.  "You still haven't."

_//Bastard!//_

"Haven't I?  Don't you think I have?"  
  


Sasuke was such a jerk.  Even injured and locked up he was still a jerk and still so damn composed, thinking that the whole world belonged to him but…

  
God it felt good to be talking to him naturally like this, not all stiff like he was—like they had to be, like they had pretended to be—before, but just natural banter.  Fighting naturally, as easily as the air flowing into his lungs.  This was his Sasuke.  Everyone else would change, go away and be someone else but Sasuke would always be _his_ Sasuke.

"No."

Naruto waited impatiently for further explanation.  Sasuke cracked his neck as he sat up gingerly, and his voice sounded terrible.  Still wet and slightly sticky.

Naruto smiled knowingly, but he didn't really like what he knew.  He wasn't nearly as in control as he liked to be, but that also was expected.  "So…are you going to play, or no?"  
  
Sasuke paused long enough to look at him.

_//Fuck you.//_

"Drop the illusion," he said out loud.  "I know this isn't real."

Naruto raised his eyebrow elegantly again.

"I can see through them, remember?  And I can smell the blood in the air."

Naruto absorbed this and rolled his head around on his shoulders for a few seconds, thinking about that idea and enjoying making Sasuke wait and fume silently.  Sasuke didn't _like_ not being in control.  He didn't _like_ being condescended-to, but he was very good at _doing_ it.  Naruto laughed softly in his throat, and heard Sasuke's teeth grind scarcely audible from the strain.

Naruto smiled to himself, before nodding and dropping the illusion, opening his hands to Sasuke's palms up like a stage magician.  

There wasn't too much of a difference; there was rust on the bars, and the lighting was dimmer, nearly completely dark.  The stone showed wear and tear, and there were shackles drilled into the right wall.  The door switched sides and style.  But Sasuke had been wrong about the blood.  

"_Blood_ Sasuke?  It's funny, but we usually don't take prisoners.  Usually don't have the need for them.  You're one of the few."

Sasuke was not impressed.  And he was too angry to…show his anger, so to speak.  And while anger was good and tasty, it wasn't exactly what Naruto was looking for.  He was getting _sarcastic_.  Few things were more irritating than a sarcastic Sasuke.

//_Prisoner?  Ooh…Big fucking change from before.  At least now it's official_.//

Naruto sighed exasperated.  This probably called for some explanation.  He shrugged, eyes tilted towards the corner before jumping straight in without preamble or provocation.

Sasuke beat him to it.  Naruto meant to scream, but bit his tongue instead.

"So you killed them."

"Yep."

"Just felt like it?"

"No," Naruto began and Sasuke cut him off naturally before he could explain further.  Naruto bit his tongue again.

"You had a _reason_?"

"Yeah Sasuke, I kinda _did_!"

"Wow.  I hadn't expected something like you to bother."

Naruto made a point of not letting his emotions show at all.  He slightly failed, and Sasuke picked it up.  That's what Sasuke was aiming for, trying to turn the tables or at least make himself an equal, and ebony eyes were scraping over his face in not a nice way.  Huh.  Idiot.

_//…Something like you?  I'm a **something** now, am I?  Really?  Oh you little fucker…I'm going to rip your spine out one day, I really am_.//

"I just got tired of living on the edge; not in and not out. Too unnatural to be human and too weak to be a demon. After some thirteen, fourteen years of trying to get in, and they not letting me, I just chose to get out. I _chose_."  

Sasuke seemed to laugh. Or sneer. Or both.

//_'Weak?'  Nice word choice; couldn't have chosen better_.//  Sasuke looked up at him.  //_You **can** hear me, can't you?//_

So…Sasuke still didn't know exactly what he could do yet.  He only had an idea, only guesses—pretty damn accurate guesses, but only guesses as they were.  Good.  Good and bad, but still pretty good.

"Huh. And the fuck with everyone else, right? You always were selfish…  The hell with Iruka, the hell with Kakashi. All the others, the ones who tried to help you, they just get swept away like everything else, right?"

"No, you get to live. It's a pretty small amount of people anyway."

"So some did escape.  Fucking hurrah."

"Awwe, how cute," Naruto smiled endearingly.  "Sasuke can actually _care_ about other people; this is just the time for hellish miracles isn't it?  But you're right, you're right.  I mean, _you're_ alive aren't you?  I'm sure other people got out okay if they were smart enough."

Sasuke seemed to smile acidicly except he didn't really smile at all as he stretched out a little on his bunk, getting his muscles limber.  His lips didn't move right; barely moved at all.  Still thinking very constructively, by the look of things.

"And that makes it better, does it? Since we get to live while our home and everyone we know goes up in smoke, we're supposed to be _happy_ because we _get_ to live?" Sasuke was actually laughing.  Laughing, the little bastard.  

"I don't expect you to _do_ anything. I'm not asking for forgiveness or understanding. It was either this way or kill the lot of you, and I didn't want to do that."

"Wasn't planning to," Sasuke shot in, placing both feet on the ground, leaning forward on his knees.

"I'll kill you eventually."  That was a voice neither recognized at all.  It wasn't Naruto's voice; wasn't Sasuke's.  It was old and flat; had ringing harmonics in it like the primeval shadow growl.  It was audible tooth and fang.  It _wasn't_ _Naruto's voice_.  He knew that.  But he had felt his lips move…

Sasuke didn't look scared.

The hairs on the back of Naruto's neck rose.  He looked him square in the eye.  He really wanted to bang him into the ground right now, but he had started it.  He'd damn well finish it; Sasuke wasn't going to keep him from doing that.

"I'm a demon Sasuke; you've known that for a while now.  Think you can wrap your mind around that!" Naruto screamed, surges of energy snapping along the floor and through Sasuke's hair in splurges of static light bursting through the darkness.  Bits of metal and dust on the floor danced from the sudden magnetic energy, bounced against the soles of Sasuke's bare feet.

"They _made_ me what I am!  The demon, the fox—they stuck it in me!  They didn't know what to do with it—they didn't know anything!  So they stuck it in a kid to see what would happen and what the fuck?  Why, it happened to be me!" Naruto shouted excitedly.

Sasuke wasn't even watching.  

"I wasn't born like this," Naruto said a tad quieter, with a bit more control he soon lost.  "They _designed_ me this way!  My destiny, before I got say, 'Hey!  I don't _want_ to be hated!' and they chose for me.  …They got what they earned, so fuck _the hell off with it_."

Sasuke failed to react; that's what the fox was fishing for anyway, reactions.  He flexed his fingers; no broken bones.

"I wanted to kill so I _did_.  Conquest!  It's as simple as that.  I know you understand that like the back of your hand, since, hell Sasuke!" Naruto was grinning maniacally bright now.  "You're a traitor too, same as me!  Problem is, you didn't have the guts _or_ the power to go as far as I did or _damn_…the world would have found its Dark Angel a lot sooner than it found it's Demon King!  Don't need to be so damn transparent!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"  
  


"If you were me you would have done the same.  Don't lie; you know you would have.  You nearly _did_; that's why you became Orochirmoro's bitch right?"

"That was a long time ago.  You'd never understand something like that—"

"Think _so_?  I think you're lying, Pretty-Boy, lying pretty damn badly!  You're not as _tragic_ as all your fangirls think you are.  You're actually pretty boring."

"I think you're fishing for similarities that aren't there.  That'd never _be_ there.  I'm _nothing_ like you, not now.  Not ever.  …Not even an idiot could mistake that.  You don't know a damn thing about me."

"You lie!  You silly bean!  You're jealous," Naruto strung the word out softly.  "Jealous because I could and _you_ couldn't!  You don't believe in justice any more than I do you hypocrite!" and Naruto was laughing while he said this.  That was the strange thing.  He was laughing; but from what?  

Sasuke's life expectancy was shooting down with every laugh Naruto coughed up, but that didn't stop him from shoving another knife in.  They were hurting each other, and Sasuke knew it and he just watched.  He wanted to hurt that thing that dared call itself someone he knew.  And in his world, it didn't matter how much how he got hurt; partly because he didn't care.

"Of you?  Don't be stupid.  I value myself more than that."

"Nyah, you're just being a bitch again," Naruto shined his nails against his coat.  "Bet this really bites into your pride, doesn't it?  Knowing that once again…" Naruto looked up, and Sasuke physically held himself back, tried to block his ears out.  He even looked away.

"You were too slow.  Someone beat you to the punch line again, Pretty-Boy--"

Sasuke startled.  

//_Let it go.//_

"_--and_ that someone was _me_.  Ow!  Fuck.  I bet that hurt real good.  Too bad I didn't see your face when it happened.  Would've made my day real nice."

//…_Breathe.  Just breathe_.//

"Che'" was all Sasuke said, lowering his head and rubbing his arm absently, reviewing the number of steps from where he was to where the door was.  To where the blonde kid was.  Figuring how long it would take him to get there.  How hard it would be to knock him down.  "I never wanted to kill senselessly.  Not innocents."

"It wasn't senselessly.  And they _weren't_ innocents."

Sasuke seemed to laugh again, that bitter cough that was his cheap substitute for a laugh.  "What would you know about it?  Aren't you a demon?  Don't all us humans look the same to you?  Like you would even _care_, stupid…" Sasuke just shook his head side to side again, while Naruto watched silently and seethed invisibly.  

"…Idiot."

"It really is all about me. About what I want," Naruto countered too quickly, too softly.  "Power doesn't go to those who deserve it, Sasuke; it goes to those that can stand it but I don't think you'll _ever_ understand that... After living in that hell, I can stand anything."

Pause.  Naruto tilted his head to the side as he considered further.

"Even your hatred," he stated coldly.  "Even Iruka's and anybody else's.  Can't help thinking that you're a little jealous of me.  I _did_ do what you always wanted to."

"No." was the curt, _definite_, _finite_, reply.  Sasuke could be cruel, he knew, but he didn't enjoy it.  Not like these monsters did.  "In your dreams."

Naruto smiled grimly, dryly.

"That's right. My dreams command reality, Sasuke, they command anything."

Sasuke sneered.

"No. It's just a better lie than most. Gaara told me already. Did you suddenly turn fag when you went insane, or was this a longer affliction?"

Naruto paused, and seemed to really consider Sasuke for once.

"Gaara told you that?  My, I'm going to have a talk with him, aren't I?  I don't know. Just further exploration my freedom of choice…found I liked more things than just ramen. Who knew, right?"

Sasuke was sullenly silent after that as was Naruto, leaning back, with a faint smug expression still on his face. The air was thick with thought.

//_He won't actually try that again, will he?//_

__

A dry, humorless chuckle broke out from Naruto's throat.  Sasuke looked down, massaging one wrist.

_::come::_

The command was like a silent boom in the middle of his chest, making his vision ripple like waves.  Sasuke's head pounded briefly.

"Oh, yeah Sasuke _that_ happened.  That _thing_ you thought you dreamed _happened_, which kinda makes me wonder what else you dream with me...Hentai.  For how long has Sasuke-kun thought about little me _that_ way? I wonder.  I can get into your mind, you know."

Naruto smiled foxily, his eyes narrow slits of black with a tiny hint of summer blue.

"But yeah," he continued.  "You really did orgasm right in my lap and _no_, you're not as good a kisser as all the girls said you were.  …But then they wouldn't know, would they?"

Naruto broke out into a sharp smirk without laughing, voice a throaty rasp and his eyes narrowed. 

"No need to blush like that.  It's not like I taped it or anything, but I thought about it.  Decided not to; don't say I never did anything for you."

"Nothing good," Sasuke whispered, nearly silently.  Naruto had to strain to hear him.  The angrier Sasuke got, the quieter he got, and then everything suddenly exploded in your face like a laser-edged bomb.  They were getting close to that moment.

_::come::_

Naruto harrumphed dismissively in his throat.  Sasuke could feel his blood burn and the silent boom hurt his temples.  
  
"Got your rocks off.  Made you beg.  Made you scream my _name_ over and over and over again while I tasted every bit of you that you _shoved_ in my mouth.  I really expected seducing an Ice Angel a lot harder than that but…I guess the Angel's got secrets he hasn't told me about."

_::come::_

Sasuke pressed himself further into the wall, a muscle twitch developing in the corner of his left eye, and his fingers clenching and unclenching.  His mind was twitching.  He didn't like it.  He didn't recognize it.

"It didn't accomplish anything.  You wasted your time," Sasuke whispered again, clutching his wrists.  He wasn't summoning the chidori.  It looked like it, but he wasn't.

"Did I?  Really think so little of yourself?  Damn Sasuke," and the fox said his name on purpose, on _purpose_ the bastard!  "You weren't _that_ bad.  Not very focused but that's excusable.  I mean, I had fun, you had fun…hell, even _Gaara_ had fun watching us for God knows how long, and he hardly has any fun at all.  Fun!  You know?"

_::come::_

Sasuke swallowed.  His fingers moving on his wrists were hypnotic now.  

_::Come::_

He hurt.  He hurt all over.  His head.  His heart.  Couldn't think.  Couldn't feel.  

React.

React.

React.

Tilting his head slightly, Naruto leaned in for the kill. 

"I've had worse, if that makes you feel better.  Not many as good-looking, but I've had worse."

_::Come!::_

Sasuke doubled over and let out a choked gasp, held it, his body one tense taught guitar string, and then just fell forward casually to the floor as Naruto released him.

Naruto raised one eyebrow before rolling his eyes disgustedly. There was a severe streak of insanity or masochism in the Uchiha bloodline, he was sure. Sasuke had resisted to his little probing so damn hard he'd passed out. 

Naruto walked over and knelt beside him, turning the body over to look at his face. So damn busy avoiding his…affectionate advances, he probably didn't realize he had just handed himself over on a silver platter.

_//Sasuke, Sasuke…What are we going to do with you?//_

Naruto cupped his hand and gobbed some spit into it, which he spread on Sasuke's cheek, a little memoir and stimulus for when he woke up, trailing his thumb along his jaw line and absently touching his bottom lip. He considered ripping Sasuke's shirt and taking his pants, but decided against it.  He could kiss him too, but…nah, there was time for that.  When he was awake.

Sasuke wasn't _that_ stupid, and provoking him too hard would come out badly.

Standing up, Naruto walked out the door and prepared to slam it, absently wondering why the iron metal had caused such burns on Gaara's skin when it was just ordinary metal to him. Unless it cut him, it didn't mean anything to him. Still…very unusual. 

Hands thrust out between the bars to grab Naruto's face and slam his skull backwards with a skin-smashing crack against the metal. The butt of an ankle hammered into the center of his chest, an elbow driving into his chin as he tried to curl up. He was thrown at the ground and kicked in the groin _hard_. Was that his pelvis crunching or what?

Everything couldn't have taken more than 6 seconds.

//_Shi--//_

Nails ripped down his skin, metal notching down his rib bones and there was a shout of pain in his ear, a foot neatly puncturing the soft side of his neck and punting his head like a football, snapping it _over_ the vertebrae brainstem, to smash his face over and over again into the stone wall.  

//_Where the hell--//_

Metal slid into the back of Naruto's neck, the point sliding out the front, and then was yanked out.

_//…Did he get his strength?//_

He hurt in various different places.  It was the wetness in his throat that got him worried.  He dimly registered the cell door slamming

In confused demanding pain and acute humiliation, Naruto closed his eyes and struck out angrily, blindly. 

Sasuke screamed out loud---stumbled in his run, landing heavily against the wall, still trying to stagger along. 

But now Naruto knew where he was. Naruto struck out again, but with purpose. 

Sasuke screamed high and bloodcurdling, like the skin was being ripped off his back, like the plasma in his living brain cells was being heated to a slow boil, because it definitely felt that way. He fell hard to his knees, sobbing, and clutched hard at his head and curled up. 

Naruto usually attacked by letting the nightmares out, and even though he had a brief idea, he didn't really _know_ what Sasuke kept in the darkness.

A dark bloody humid mental backwash hit Naruto hard, made his stomach lurch anxiously and with a wrench he cut the connection. 

He kept still though, only moving a little so that everything healed in mainly the right way and listened hard to his body.  Gradually, the wetness in his neck was no longer quite so wet, and Naruto tried to get up, feeling his throat carefully.  The skin was raw, soft, but it was _there_.

In a gust, Naruto released the breath he had been holding for too long.  There was cold sweat on his forehead.

His chest hurt funny like it was too tight--Hah! With the way Sasuke kicked, it was probably two sizes too small. The back of his skull was sharp angry howl he was efficiently blocking out, and his face was bloodied but healed where Sasuke had grabbed his face with his nails.  His shirt was in tatters; there was blood on that and his neck.  He wiped that off absently.  He ached in worrying ways.  

//_Shit.  Someone was angry.  Maybe I poked too hard_.//

Sounds of choking and crying were coming from the hallway.  Naruto snickered despite the pain, despite the danger.

//_Yay for me!  …geez that sounds good_.//

He crumpled back on the floor.  His pelvis.  Gosh darn it, his pelvis.  What the heck had Sasuke done to his pelvis?  Geez, that, that, that…_Man_!  Naruto settled back on the floor, closed his eyes, listened, and waited patiently for himself to heal.  Never took too long anyway.  

There was a faint burning, tingling sensation in his hips.

Wearily, and by degrees, Naruto got to his feet, and reached into his jacket for the key, noticing that there was some blood on his sleeve where Sasuke had grabbed him and inside where the idiot had shoved his hand in. Hah…so even his clothes were cranky with Sasuke. Typical.

//…_Go leather accessories!  Chew on the asshole's skin, my L.L. Bean baby_.//

Producing the key and opening the door, Naruto sniffed the air before strolling off in the direction Sasuke had run.

At least he had the brains to run; well, actually any idiot would have run after an attack like that, but it was kind of surprising that Sasuke had the strength to run stored up in him, to actually attack him that way, to actually fake a mind lock. Naruto hadn't been real sure, but that really was pretty impressive in the amount of time Sasuke had taken to perceive his abilities and work out a diversion.  If he'd hit anyone else like he'd hit Naruto, he might have killed him, especially when he stabbed the neck.

//_What a guy, my old Sasuke-kun.  What an absolute idiot_.//  Against his will and throbbing head, Naruto had to grin. 

You really had to give him some credit though. It took guts to try and beat up the boss and run away from the demon dungeons, without even knowing _where_ the backdoor was. He was running blind, and he probably knew it. Sasuke and the others had always called Naruto the reckless one, but Sasuke was just as bad, if not worse. 

Naruto shoved his hands in his pockets as he strolled along, searching out Sasuke's mind and his location, checking to make sure the idiot hadn't committed suicide out of desperation or something or gotten his hands on some iron.

Had to give him a head start, after all. 

***

Sasuke raced onward with abandon, streaking alongside the walls and sometimes the ceiling like a silent shadow with bones and pounding migraine and twisted stomach.  He was actually…so sick that he couldn't hate Naruto properly.  

He _did_ hate Naruto, and wanted very much to do something very painful and detailed manner with many slender sharp and pointy slivers of rusty cold _iron_, and tear his eyes out with barbeque prongs.  Once he wasn't so sick.  Once he was positive the shadows weren't alive, and touching his ankles.

His head was…good god his _head_.  It was terrible.  It was worse than a nightmare and a little like Hell.  He had no idea what that had been but…damn.  Damn it all, but that had hurt.

Sasuke wasn't trying to run _out_ of the castle; he was pretty sure that's where he was, and he couldn't chance it, not while he was so disoriented.  Best thing was to find a corner somewhere, get armed quickly  _//**Find** the armory_// lock it up, wait to see if the trail gets cold and _then_ either get the hell out of there or find the Demon Bastard and kill him, if he wasn't dead already.  Sasuke hoped he was, hoped _dearly_.  But if he wasn't, that wasn't problem either.  He would.  But not now.

He had thrown up some meters back.  His stomach had been empty; his throat felt like it had been ripped off and tanned with acid.  He was still sick.  Something wanted to come out but there was nothing left to come _out_.  But while that was crunchingly painful, the pain in his head splitting, dizzy, and his knees slightly bloody with an overall _ache_ in his whole body, he wasn't really worried about that.  What he was worried about was the cold feeling he was getting in his spine.

He was being followed, he knew that.  Normally, this wouldn't have worried him.  But now, for some reason, it worried him, and Sasuke wasn't stupid enough to dismiss his instincts so quickly.  He didn't really…he didn't recognize this…fox.  Demon.  He didn't know him, not enough to safely predict him.  It.  It was, as Shikamaru would have put it, a tiresome foolishness and the best strategy would be to run away.  

Besides.

Sasuke didn't want to look at him.

He ran past a corner, a shadow clattering straight ahead in front of him noisily in his own image while the real Sasuke clung to the wall and stopped breathing and waited.  

He was being followed, and enthusiastically.  Problem was, it didn't feel familiar.  He didn't know who or what it was, not in a place like this, but he wasn't armed, only with a skinny knife he had swiped off of that stupid jacket and his body still—

Claws swiped at _only_ his stomach cleaving some skin and blood because he had dodged backwards in time, and Sasuke gathered his heart from his throat and chakra to his hands and let the fire fly.  

His body throbbed like jackhammer, hot wetness oiling his abdomen but Sasuke had to admit…it felt really good just to beat the crap out of something no matter _what_ it was.  

White light blazed in the hallway as the fireball flew with a rattling of wings.  Sasuke caught a brief glance of what was following him.  His eyebrow quirked.

_//Beating the hell out of whatever it is under all that fur.// _

*** 

Panting and slightly bloody, Sasuke barely managed to slide to stop at the end of the corridor with his sandals gritting on the stone, red swirling Sharingan eyes strapping on to the two startled men in front of him.

//_Oh **fuck**_.//

They had both seen him.  Sasuke held his little bloodied knife tightly.

The near one was pencil thin and fishlike, with sallow skin and spiked green hair and about seven different fingers on either deformed hand, each about nine inches long and spidery looking.  The other wasn't as interesting looking, just a bald human mountain designed for breaking things, most probably bones.  

Sasuke snarled silently, teeth flaming white and eyes narrowed feline strips and turned his back to the wall, and hands spread out to either side readily, fingers open.  

He didn't have _time for this shit!_  

His ears strained behind him.  He couldn't hear it.  That _would_ be good, but he hadn't heard it to begin with.  Silence didn't mean anything, not to whatever-the-hell was following him.

The mountain-man turned his body to see him, but the fish man took a quick glance and put a hand to the bigger one's stomach.  Oblong murky yellow eyes met Sasuke's…lasciviously.  There was no other way to describe it.  And the fishy-man was grinning too.  The mountain-man glanced down at Sasuke's wrist, and stepped back.

Sasuke glanced down at his wrist and –

--Pain shot through Sasuke's right arm, claws scratching almost adoringly at his bandages before they—

"_Don't!" _the mountain-man roared, the sound shattering like an explosion.

Pressure fled Sasuke's arm, his back clung to the wall while he staggered and tried to get all three into his vision range while still having space to maneuver.  His chakra was low again //_FUCK!//_ and he was bleeding even _more_.  Wow!  _//Give me a fucking _medal_, I can _bleed_!  Shit!//_

At least he finally got a clear picture now of his attacker.  It looked…vaguely catlike, sort of human, with spotted dark brown shorthair on its—ninja instinct noted the chest—on _her_ body, elongated ears and a very slender tail.  And claws.  Sharp, _long_ claws, tinted pink with Sasuke's own blood splattered over her face with fangs and cat whiskers and eyes.

Sasuke had gutted her along one shoulder; he was proud of that.  He hadn't had any idea what he was fighting, but he _still_ got a cut in.  It had hurt her too from the way she was holding it.

//_Fuck.  Fuck.  Fuck.  Three of them.  Fuck.//_

"You're dog food now," the mountain-man rumbled.

The fishy man snickered wetly.

"_Mine_!" the cat-thing actually…_hissed_, a scratchy hollow shriek, more bizarre than frightening.  But then she had very long claws and brilliant fangs, muscles rippling under the fur and scattered denim clothing.  She didn't really need a scary voice, she had very sharp claws.

//Sakura_ is wandering around with these things_…//

//…_Where is she?  He wouldn't…he wouldn't let them…//_

_//She can fight.  But against things like these?_//

"Lookit his wrist, stupid.  Ain't gonna be 'nough of _you_ to fill a fuckin' _spoon_," the mountain man rumbled out again in the same thoughtful monotone.

The men //_?_// had looked at his wrists too.  They had looked and they hadn't done anything.  

//_What the hell?//_

Sasuke looked at his own wrist; there was his arm, there was his hand at the end, and there in between them was his wrist bandaged up and slightly smoking from the fireball was a braided red leather bracelet tied around it.  The bracelet didn't belong to him.

The cat woman slapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide.  Fishy made a sucking sound; Sasuke realized it was laughing.  It—she—the Cat, _whatever_, snarled at the fishy thing wrinkling her nose, but the wide-eyed fearful look didn't leave her, and she turned to Sasuke, slightly angry, slightly afraid, and with cold calculating look that he recognized all too easily.  He'd seen it in the mirror enough.

"He was loose," was the funky hollow hiss.

"So?" rumbled Mt. Monosyllabic.  

Sasuke felt distinctly sick.  And like laughing at the same time and taking a nap; they were arguing over his accessories.  Maybe they didn't like red here.  But the jacket that—

More importantly, Sasuke could feel a little sizzle of energy beneath his palms.  Feline eyes tried to swallow him, take up all his attention with that cat-like intensity and Sasuke chanced a glimpse off to the side, in time to see the big guy step forward like an earthquake.  

"Don' touch him Tina," Mt. Talkative rumbled out again.  She hissed at him—really _hissed_ at him—before turning to look back at Sasuke.  He caught a hint of something less lethal in her eyes, something helpless and scared.

It was like bomb falling.  Sasuke felt the temperature get cold.

"Why's everyone standing around for?  I miss something?"

Both Fishy and the Mountain straightened visibly, the cat—Tina, looking like she had been shot.  She didn't turn around.  Sasuke's lips curled backwards.  

//_Shit.  Still alive.  I'm not surprised.  I wish I was_.//

"Problems Vincent?"

Naruto stood casually a good distance from all the excitement, blood gone from his neck but shirt still in strips, hands shoved in his pockets with a toothy bright smile on his lips and his eyes—

Sasuke looked away sharply, and felt his cheeks heat up.

"_No, milord.  We were sssimply relieving the morning ssshhhift of their duty, sir,_" the Fishy man—Vincent--whispered in a quiet oily hiss, inclining his neck in greeting.  Sasuke thought he heard an eastern accent in the lilt.

//_Milord?//_

"Then why are you still there."  

It wasn't a question.  Sasuke's eyes hardened, and tilted his eyes back towards Naruto.  His smile wasn't so blinding, but his eyes hadn't changed at all.  He had heard that voice a few times in his life; not often, and never peacefully.

//_…gangster.  Nothing more_.//

"_Nothing, milord.  We are departing…asss we ssspeak_," Vincent answered respectfully with a quick, elegant old-fashioned bow and turned on his heel, the Mountain already heading down the corridor, out of sight.

Naruto watched them go, his face still frozen in that blankly amused expression that didn't meet his eyes.  Sasuke was watching the Cat though.  He could hear her heart beating from where she was.  

Purposely, perhaps even cruelly, Naruto let the silence stretch out.

"Christina."

Only through the Sharingan did Sasuke follow her movements as she spun on her heel and fell to one knee and hand, a knight's kneeling position.  But her head was laid out stretched, showing her neck clearly.  And it looked like she might have been crying.  Sasuke could see her sweat from where he was.

/_/…?/_/

"Naruto-sama, lord, I did not _know_ I _swear_ I did not recognize him!  …I never would have interfered had I but _known_, lord I _swear!  _ I did not mean offense, at all, lord, please, I did not think and I did not know and I just thought that maybe it was—"

"What?" Naruto broke in. 

//…_Oh the fuck?  What?//_

The Cat Thing seemed to falter pretty bad after that.  Whatever she had been holding on to before she lost now.  Christina swallowed hard, and she seemed to slump into the floor.  Her voice was still inhumanely scratchy, thin, but there was an imploring note sobbing in there Sasuke couldn't even _imagine_, not even after hearing it.

"Milord I did not…I…"

Naruto wasn't looking at Sasuke, but he very much doubted he could run from this cleanly.  His eyes turned to look at the end of the hall anyway.  How many other things did he have like her in here?  Sasuke's wounds throbbed.  Enough to cause a problem for him, likely.  But not enough to stop him.

Straight brown tufts of hair fell about her ears like a lion's man vibrated because she was trembling, while Naruto was decidedly studying her neck in silence, absolutely oblivious to whatever she was going through.

"Christina," he said gently, "I want to speak to you later.  Don't go too far."

Naruto spoke quietly, and without inflection.  She still winced through, Sasuke noticed, head nearly lifting up to look at Naruto and either fight or…no, probably to beg, Sasuke guessed.  And she didn't do either.  Just walked backwards, skulking out towards the opening without ever turning her back to Naruto and as soon as she reached the other corridor she was gone as if she had never been there at all.

Sasuke was clutching his wrist as he watched her go. 

_//That was…//_

//_What the hell just happened?//_

"Hm?  Oh, you were nearly killed Sasuke-kun.  Again.  But I'm sure you realized that already, you being the genius you are, right?" Naruto said in his normal boyish voice.

"What's going to happen to her?" 

Naruto grinned, and chuckled.  "What do you care?  You were ready to kill her, weren't you?"

"You survived.  I shoved a knife into your throat."

"And you upset me very muchly Sasuke-kun.  I think you're not going to play with anymore sharp toys now."

"You were supposed to die."

Naruto actually stopped _dead_ in his tracks, the saccharine veil burning away.  It was like shooting down the sun, the change in the atmosphere, the sudden darkness.  His eyes were bitter and cold, and Sasuke didn't recognize him at all.  Not even a little.  He wasn't smiling.  

//_This is what you really are.  I've found your face demon_.//

Icy metallic eyes narrowed, the voice a hard tight whisper and with an edge to it that Sasuke hadn't heard before.  

"Don't dance with the devil, angel.  I'll tear your eyes out."

Sasuke finally tore his eyes away from the empty corridor, sifting over to meet Naruto's eyes.  He didn't raise his voice.

"What do you want?  What the hell is this about?"

"Isn't it obvious?  I thought it was obvious!  Don't you _know_ yet, Sasuke-kun?" Naruto snapped back with a maniac grin, voice gratingly high.  The sun burned viciously again in the hall.

"Answer the fucking question."

"Geez, what a temper," Naruto quipped pleasantly.  "It was only a little scratch you know, she wouldn't have killed you.  She's really nice once you get to know her…though that _does_ look pretty bad…"

Naruto had his hand under his chin thoughtfully as he studied Sasuke, an eyebrow raised critically.  He made a disapproving sound in his throat and shook his head, striding over to Sasuke while the latter prepared to run.

"I'll catch you, you know.  Anywhere you go, I can follow you _anywhere_."

The worst part was that Sasuke didn't doubt that was true.  Sasuke kept his distance, circling a little.  Naruto stopped coming towards him.  Naruto sighed.  

"I know you don't like me.  You don't have to lie on _my_ account but _really_ Sasuke…  How stupid can you be?  You don't even know where the fuck you're going.  And sweet little Christine already got you a nice one across your face…I can't believe she really got you across your _face_, what the hell was she _thinking_!  People!  _Shit_!"

Sasuke darted away from Naruto's hand, circling back to the empty hallway, putting as much distance between them as he could.  Naruto scowled childishly.

"How long do you plan to run away?"  
  
"When the fuck are you gonna answer my question?"  
  
Naruto rolled his eyes and let his shoulders slump.  

"Why am I here?  Why do you care?  When do we get _lunch_?" he yelled back in a enthusiastically tired voice, waving one hand around.  

"Why the fuck doesn't Sasuke take Prozac and leave the world alone; these are _questions_ that stump the fucking world!  Does anyone know!  Does anyone care!" Naruto shouted with his hair standing at manic angles.  "Probably not!"

"Don't play games with me Naruto."

"Oh, you remembered my _name_," Naruto brightened up.  He still shouted.  "Finally!  Fuck!  How effing magnificently _nice_ of you!  Oh, and you'll damn well," his voice hardened, lowered, "do what I want you to Sasuke-kun.  There are worst things here than Christina for you to worry about.  Mostly me, but that's nothing you can get away from anyway."

::_enough_::

There was a small explosion between his ears, like a Molotov Cocktail going off inside his skull.  The room was spinning.  Sasuke's stomach jumped, and he eyed the opening of the hall.  It seemed very far away.   His face was warm, and the sweat and sickness he had ignored since he woke up were coming full force.  Naruto seemed to take up all of his vision.  //_Konoha…what the hell happened?//_

"I _hate_ to think what Vinny would have done to you.  A real bastard that one, I don't mind saying."

"What do you want with me?  Why me?  Why out of everyone else, _me_?"

Sasuke's hand slapped against the stone; he pushed himself back to standing. Pale lakes of Lethe seemed all Sasuke could see, and the stone felt refreshingly cool against his back.  His wrists pained him suddenly because tanned fingers were squeezing the life out of them again, and his stomach wished to throw up again.  

"Oh you'll find out Sasuke-kun. You self-centered brat.  You'll find out.  Eventually."

Naruto's lips crushed hard against his.

There ended Sasuke's conscious state.

***

That would not be the last time Sasuke awoke to find the blonde kid smirking at him or poking him in his ribs while his hands were chained to the wall, over and over again until his fingers left very distinct bruises.  

It would be the last time Sasuke got a clear answer for a long time.

His face hadn't scarred over from Christina's claws; his skin was smooth, unbroken, and he felt sick to the marrow of his bones.  

A small bomb was regularly exploded in between his temples, so much now that the headache was constant, so much that he began to forgot what it was like when the walls and floor weren't trading places ever seventh second on the dot.  He was adapting to it, and the slightest change in routine had him hitting his head at first lightly then stronger against the walls to make the pounding stop.  It hurt badly.  

The blonde kid didn't stop coming.  

He just didn't come all the time.

***

Elegantly long fingers the same color of raw ivory slid like dolphins over Naruto's tanned arm, making it seem scrawny and too scruffily dark next to it.  The Demon King himself watched avidly, smiling a little just at the pleasure of the sensation, of the sight.  It was nice, to be here.  It felt…well…he didn't want to say.  First there was the nature of the location, and then there was the occupant.  The occupant that Naruto did have to admit with a broad smile, he had _definitely_ not figured out.  

"How long are you going to have him here?"

"Mmmm…" Naruto purred lazily in his throat, not really caring and cuddling backwards.  "I dunno…for a while.  For my own entertainment.  It's not really important…"

Gaara didn't say anything, but continued to trace his fingers over his arm.  Naruto liked that.  He said they looked funny together, and that was certainly true.  They were similar because they were of the same species, of the same hybrid, Gaara had always thought.  Not because they were alike.  They weren't.

He didn't really like Sasuke here, but it was…interesting to see how Naruto would react to him.  It wasn't what Gaara had expected.  He hadn't thought Naruto could _do_ things like that.  In all his time, Gaara had always figured the blonde boy to be too soft, to kind.  But the Leaf shinobi was hardly being pampered, even Gaara had to admit.  It really sucked to have the fox fuck up your head.  He hadn't thought Naruto capable of it.

He hadn't believed it when he had gone to look outside at the damage the single vessel had wrought, but Naruto had simply shrugged and smiled when he turned around to look at him accusingly, and said he gotten carried away, but he really _did_ have fun.  Too bad it was over…

And Gaara had left it at that.  It was his concern, his life, not Gaara's.  

More importantly, Naruto's mouth never tasted of anyone but him.  Of ramen and sometimes milk and alcohol and maybe chocolate, but Naruto never tasted of Sasuke.  Gaara would spot it on the second if he had.  He didn't even taste like the random women he was so addicted to anymore.  

He usually smelled a little like Sasuke if the day had been boring and he had nothing else better to do or torment, but he never tasted like him.  He was hurting Sasuke.  Even if he _did_ spend an obscene amount of time and effort on the human, he was doing it hurting him.  Nothing else.  And he always found time for Gaara.

He stopped caressing Naruto's arm and turned his hand over, spooned as he was over Naruto's back and called the sand down into his palm.  The strand twirled around his palm, weaved between his fingers, before settling in a gently oscillating globe of tawny gold and sometimes a glitter of glass or a darker spec of blood 

He watched Naruto watching that, saw him pout and brushed the back of his hand against Gaara's again, bumping into it purposefully.

"Mrrrooww?  Mrrrow?"

Tanned skin shivered when a deeper voice spoke softly against his neck, brushing against the hairs and said, "Those are cats."

"I like cats.  Cats go meow.  Mew," he said playfully as he pulled at Gaara's hand again, trying to disrupt his concentration on the damned sand and bring it back to _him_, who was a _lot_ more interesting than some stupid dust.  

Naruto gave up depressingly quick, watched, and then reached up again to Gaara's hands and there was stirring of chakra along his arm, and up through his fingers, interweaving gently with the sand.  Entranced, and slightly off-balance by this new development, Gaara watched.  

Naruto hesitated, paused, then reduced his energy flow and the heat that was pooling over Gaara's skin up above his palm.  After some thought, the sand readjusted itself also.  

Naruto cocked his head.  "Pretty," he said childishly, thoughtfully after some time.  

It was tiny orb of raw glass about the size of a marble, bits of raw sand still visible around the outer circumference and a lot more gathered around the center, tiny air bubbles dotted throughout.  It was getting heavier for Gaara to support midair; there wasn't enough sand.  

Almost as an after thought, Naruto delicately twitched his fingers and stretched one side of it, so that some of the glass peeled off and there was a small gap between the nucleus and the circumference.

"Wow, I didn't know we could do _that_…that's pretty cool."

Gaara said nothing; didn't contradict him, and Naruto took that to mean he agreed.  

"Kinda looks like a kitty, doesn't it?  …Pretty kitty…" Naruto turned over so that he faced up at Gaara, pale blue eyes wide open and the little orb of glass completely forgotten.  

He was thinking only on Gaara right now, tanned fingers brushing along his jaw.

"Mrrroooww?"

This time Gaara kissed him, and Naruto giggled.

***

Sasuke woke up in odd places in odd ways more and more often.  It was ticking him off.  He was also missing his clothes and sandals; how often had he been wandering around barefoot?  And with stone flooring—how inhumane.  But his captor wasn't human anyway, so whatever.  He was starving.  He was still sick, still sweating and slightly dizzy at times.  If he hadn't been Sasuke Uchiha, he would…be very depressed with how things were going.  Really.

He planned to drop dead—quite logically—before he even gave the slightest satisfaction, and that included him suffering.  Anything he felt, anything he wanted, he turned to anger.  Anger was good.  It was what he relied on.

There was only one problem with it really.  It was slowly killing him.  Visibly.  

If you counted the first time, he had escaped three times.  The second had gone pretty smoothly, and he hadn't seen anyone or anything.  He wandered slowly, cautiously, because he didn't think Naruto had thrown him in the same cell as the first he had woken up in, and partly because he was too worn to do anything else.  

Despite his status, despite his character, Sasuke Uchiha, Jounin level of Konohakagure, was still human.

He didn't have Naruto's powers of regeneration, even with the small bit of healing and help he was unconsciously getting.  He had fainted in one of the many corridors; Naruto had helped him with _that_, and returned him to his cell sleeping, with another little red bracelet tied to his wrist since he had thrown the first one away.  It was Naruto's mark of ownership on him.  He had torn up the second one as well.  

The third trip had been equally as useless, except he had found food.  He was disgusted how quickly he devoured everything before even knowing if it was poisoned or drugged.  It hadn't been, and the pangs in his stomach had faded briefly.  He wasn't being fed.  Naruto was counting on him to take care of his self.

He was freezing in the old cotton shirt and short combo he always seemed to wake up with.  He had no idea who changed his clothes while he was unconscious, who saw him naked and what they did to him.  

He never slept willingly anymore; he just passed out.  When he awoke, sometimes he was alone, sometimes he could feel the chilling shiver down his spine that meant he was being watched, and sometimes there was the fox, the blonde kid waiting impatiently for him to wake up so he could rant at him.  

Sasuke knew Naruto was close, watching him, even before he opened his eyes, so he didn't.  He waited, thought as quietly as he could, and finally made his move.  

The wall hit his back painfully despite his speed, chased the air out of his lungs.  But Naruto was on the _other side_ of the bars.  So how had he pushed him?  What had thrown him?

"You let me touch you in the dark," Naruto spoke quietly, reasonably. "You even welcomed it; I could feel that--here." Naruto tapped the side of his head. 

Sasuke didn't reply, nearly crouched and burning and hateful. Naruto sighed heavily, walked towards the bars and--Sasuke's eyes widened in shock--came _through_ the bars. Sasuke's eyes darted to the door, still locked. Naruto ran a hand through his hair.

"I think you just like being a pain."

There was a rushing movement, and Sasuke staggered and struggled clawing as the stonewall dug into the bruised skin of his back, Naruto's fingers crushing his elbows to his sides and his mouth closed over Sasuke's hard. 

He peeled back his lips and dug his teeth into whatever part of Naruto was closest and tasted hot coppery milk, kicked and scrabbled over and into Naruto's kneecaps and stomped on his foot. He was dropped abruptly, and came rushing forward the second his toes touched the ground but hit the side wall before he could take a real step. 

His lungs seemed to flop inside his ribcage.  He could feel his hands shaking.

"I know you still want it," Naruto stated, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "_You _know you still want it. You liked it, you know.  Say what you like, but your body still wants me."

Sasuke spat, still crumpled on the floor, eyes still burning, alert and mobile though he didn't stand up.

//_What I want is you dead_.//

Naruto paused.

"Well, yeah, that too, but not all the time. You know," Naruto mused, mouth still faintly pink, "You're a pretty messed up guy Sasuke. I mean, you want to fuck me and yet you want to kill me too--Sometimes at the same time."

Naruto's flexible face blanked out, grimaced and seemed uncertain before becoming morbidly interested and polite.

"You never thought of your brother like this, did you?  I mean, incest--"

Sasuke shouted and rushed blindly, screaming in rage instantly as his body slowed and began to freeze in mid-gesture not a foot away from Naruto, muscles painfully locked in place and that tawny presence choking his mind with claws, Naruto in front of him sweating with effort and grinning mad.  Naruto wasn't physically touching him.  He wasn't _touching_ him.  But he still had the power to move him, to stop him.  Even against his will.

Moving like a glacier with will power Naruto didn't suspect, Sasuke's fingers curled up to Naruto's neck while the former smiled a real smile at the new trick.  His pet was growing!  Pretty soon he'd even train it to drink out of cup without throwing it at him!  Yay for him!

He kissed Sasuke brightly on the cheek in congratulations, leaning forward and standing on his toes to reach up. 

Dumb Sasuke and his stupid height.

His throat flashed as he breathed. Sasuke's teeth glinted down with a nerve-cracking wrench in his mind and neck. Naruto smiled again with his frigid ironclad control over Sasuke's muscles cracking but holding, and his mind free. Iffy delicate work, but for Sasuke's waking breaths against his neck it was worth it. For his teeth and lips inches away from his skin, his anger so alive and bright, body heat steaming, it was worth it. 

Naruto hid a wince. And it did hurt, this control did hurt.

He couldn't fuck him blind for one.

Not yet anyway.

Naruto laughed softly to himself, watched Sasuke's skin recoil from the sound but unable to move more than that.  Then, very lightly, he touched his lips against the milky white skin that still called to him, skin that still wanted him.  

Sure his _mind_ rejected him, but for Pete's sake this _was_ Sasuke after all.  

This was _his_ Sasuke, hardly changed at all over the years.  Somewhat more reachable now, and less too.  It was _his_, and Naruto was going to make him realize that whether he wanted to or not.

And, despite himself, despite what he said to Sasuke and what he said to Gaara and what he said to himself and what he wanted and what he thought, Naruto really had to…

He closed his eyes.

It did hurt like hell.  He had known it would, but he hadn't…

He tried to gather himself and failed.  Huh.  Well now.  Well now indeed.

Looked like he hadn't given Sasuke enough credit again.  He hadn't thought his hatred would hurt this much.  

//_But it does.  It does.  Why?  It doesn't have to.  I could always…I could always…//_

_//What?  I could always *what*?//_

Naruto shook the thought from his mind, breathed in that scent, slightly almondy with a taint of licorice.  Sasuke's personal smell, and against his judgment Naruto but his hands on his tense shoulders, infinitely powerful beneath his fingers and pulled himself up lightly to kiss his cheek, keeping his eyes closed.  

Sasuke continued to fight.  He didn't feel the way Naruto remembered.  

"Hmm…" was all Naruto said, before driving his knee up into his gut, both fists hammering down on the back of Sasuke's neck so that he hit the ground with a sickening fleshy sound.

"Nice dreams," he called out as he left.  

This one time, Sasuke could keep whatever bruises or mementos he had left him with.  Naruto didn't feel like bleeding for him anymore than he already had.

***

Naruto sighed softly in his sleep, and a slight wrinkle appeared in his brow; even if sleep, there were still traces of his trademark grin. 

As Gaara watched silently, a single small bead of water formed and smooshed beneath Naruto's eyelashes, but fell no further. The faint grin was still on his lips.  

Carefully, Gaara leaned forward and pressed a butterfly kiss to his cheek before pulling back. 

As a rule, he and Naruto could not sleep at the same time. He didn't mind lying there inactive while Naruto slept, though he sometimes found it boring, and entirely too tempting. 

Too tempting to join him in dreams, to just forego caution and self-interest and just rest unguarded by Naruto's side. It was entirely too tempting to ravish him while he slept, to take full savage control and dominance and finally feel and hear Naruto whimper for him, go mad and blind for him, to tear up the courtyard out of frustration for him. Perhaps…even beg him…for relief. For more. For always. For eternity.

Naruto would have…

…Naruto _did_ beg Sasuke. 

In his own way, angry and childish, but it was still begging in Gaara's eyes.  Demanding without actually forcing the action, asking over and over again for what could be taken _easily _for someone of his power.  For someone in his position.  

If it was Sasuke's body Naruto wanted, even Gaara was at the point where he wished the fox-boy would just _take_ what he wanted and be done with it.  End it.  Get it through his system and then kill Sasuke and they could forget he ever existed quite neatly.  

It was one of the weird dynamics of the Sasuke-Naruto hate-hate relationship that even though Sasuke could well be dying—weak _and_ helpless—he could still hurt Naruto.  He was _doing_ something to Naruto now, something that was keeping him distracted and keeping him _away_ from Gaara.

Gaara was not a fool. He was paranoid and insecure and desperate and sometimes naïve. He was very, very lonely. But he wasn't blind to that fact.

He was far too smart, far too practical to try and force Naruto. He had the near impossible already. He had someone who said they liked him and probably meant it, someone who didn't flinch at his touch and voice, and someone who willingly touched and talked to him, smiled and kissed him.

Someone he could hit and would hit him back, would yell and get angry, but was still tied to him somehow, still came back. Wouldn't abandon him, for some reason he couldn't fathom. Naruto wouldn't leave him alone, even if they weren't really friends or semi-acquaintances. Someone who could challenge him, control him…and for some reason that angered and excited him. Someone he could always go back to. Someone who would come back to him.

Someone who kept him from being one of a kind.

He wasn't willing or stupid enough to gamble everything for more. Getting rid of Sasuke was hell before, and it had nearly cost him his life. Naruto showed where his priorities lay, and Sasuke was definitely somewhere at the top. Gaara didn't stop wanting it, probably never would stop wanting it, but he wouldn't risk what he already had.

No.  It'd be hell again if Gaara tried to kill Sasuke again.  And again.  

No.  Naruto would have to kill Sasuke.  He wouldn't let Gaara do it; he'd have to do it himself, eventually.  He wouldn't let anyone else touch him.

Gaara just wished he'd get it over with already.  Sasuke wasn't that damn special.  He didn't deserve the attention Naruto wasted on him.

_Power doesn't go to those who deserve it; it goes to those that can stand it._

***

Sasuke walked silently down the hall, fearless or not caring.

In Naruto's room, far away on his bed, Naruto's eyes fogged momentarily, and his lips turned up in a smile. He leaned down, then placed two fingers on Gaara's lips and closed his eyes.

Green eyes brightened for a second, before skulking back into the shadows of the insomnia rings, not telling a damned soul about what he was thinking or feeling.

Sasuke padded silently along the stone floor, the bottom of his feet numb from the seeping cold. He felt slightly dizzy and his body went 'plib' with that silent boom deep in his chest and he fell forward as his mind went dark.

Naruto opened his eyes and grinned evilly, leaning down to soak himself in Gaara's mouth again.

***

"I will kill you.  I swear it," hissed Sasuke.  He was sporting a rather severe black eye, crumpled on the floor after Naruto had thrown him against his cell wall and slammed the door shut. 

Naruto had dragged him to a 'courtyard', a huge stone room illuminated only by some sparse wet torches with a lightly dusted stone floor.  It wasn't enough for Sasuke to see by.  The majority of his leftover chakra had been spent in his Sharingan; it was the one thing that was keeping him equal to the blonde's speed and power.  He watched the Stone jutsus and Sand jutsus through the swirling red orbs, and felt his mind spiral.

Naruto's eyes dilated, widening and contracting for no visible reason save getting a better focus on Sasuke.

"I'd let you, you know," Naruto murmured quietly, evenly.  "Kill me.  If you were really going after Naruto Uzumaki with all your heart, I'd probably let you."  

Sasuke snorted derisively.  "You said _you'd_ kill _me_.  What's wrong?  Can't make up your mind?"

Naruto laughed quietly.

"No, not really.  But I was telling the truth both times if that helps.  I didn't lie."

Sasuke shut him out of his attention easily, ignored the last sentence with well-bred indifference, focusing on his hands, massaging his aching wrists and energy that he was severely depleted on.  He had torn the red bracelet off from the beginning without a second thought.  He didn't give Naruto a second thought either.  And just like that, he shut Naruto out, tried to shut him off.  

The demon child stared, his emotions unmentionable, and debated on whether it would better to hit Sasuke to get his attention or do something funky to his mind.  That always got people's attention real quick; it was his best weapon.  It'd get Sasuke's attention, no doubt.

Naruto's eyes glinted, and narrowed predatorily.

Then he closed them and left silently, without Sasuke even knowing it leaving him free.

In time.  In time.

…

_…and just like that the bastard shut him off._

Naruto was some yards away before he struck violently with a mental wave.

He heard Sasuke scream.  He was not satisfied.

***

"I don't want to break him! I don't want to hurt him! I can, I know, easily, but that's just _it_, you know? That's _exactly_ what he wants and I'll be _damned_--twice!--before I give him the satisfaction. The hell with being Naruto the bastard, you know?" 

"You knock him down and he breaks because he thinks he's weak and it's suddenly _your_ _fault_! Your fault! Not his fault, _my_ fault. It's easy to blow off Naruto the idiot, the failure, dead last and traitor but it's never ever goddamn Mr. _Fucking_ Perfect Uchiha's fault!" 

Naruto's fist dented the solid stone wall.  He didn't even blink.

"And I _want_ it to be his fault, I want him to _break_ and I want him to break _himself_. I want him to topple, to _fall_ off his bitchingly white ivory pedestal and know that for once he can't blame this one on me. He can't!" 

"It was him. It was all _him_."

Naruto sat down quickly and got up without leaving a wrinkle on the bed.

"And you know what? He's not helping. Final last thing I want and he's being stubborn. Again." Naruto chewed on one knuckle for about a split second. "Oh, he _still_ looks down at me! Down his pedigree nose. The good kind, genuine, not the basic 'I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, get out of my face,' look. A real one. A…bad Naruto one."

Naruto's leg twitched and he drummed his fingers on one arm.

"Not 'Bad Nine Tails' one. A 'bad Naruto' one. I could count all those looks on both hands easy. He hates me. He hates me but he's not playing fair. He's still not playing fair!"

Naruto spun suddenly, marched, and dropped on Gaara's bed.

"So I'm not going to be very much fun tonight, I guess. Really. I mean I'm just, I'm just, you know, just a little I guess you could say--"

Naruto covered his face with both hands and cracked his neck.

"Distracted. A little. Kind of. Oh, and really, really pissed. Oooo~h _yeah. _So…  And before you even _think_ about killing him, _no_!"

Naruto darted to the far wall before his back was off the bed.

"He's _mine_, totally! If anyone so much as _looks_ at him wrong, I'll, I'll--" 

Naruto shut his mouth unexpectedly with a click, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed loudly, hands raking hard through his hair while his feet paced.

Gaara watched, and said nothing.

"_Something ok!_ I don't know; how the hell should I know! But I'll very greatly have much, much time thinking for right? No. He's mine. _Mine_! I pissed him off, I bring him down!"

He hammered one fist into his palm with a hard slap. Air and light glimmered and flew and flipped dangerously from his clothing and hair, both flattening slightly. Gaara stared at his teeth and eyes, which were sharp and bright. He wondered if he ever looked like that. 

Naruto sat down quickly, placed and cocked his chin on his folded hands and launched a scathing and blinding 100% attention on the oblivious desert shinobi. Naruto was always so completely distracted that the effort it took for him to actually stick his whole mind into _one_ thing was a real deed, and the effect chilling.

The silence and stillness thundered down and circled like wolves on the floor. Leaning against the wall, Gaara kept Naruto's gaze unflinchingly. His spine tingled.  Naruto showed no signs of wavering, not even from boredom.  Finally, Gaara deigned to speak at him, blinking his eyes slowly once.

"You can't hurt him, because he doesn't respect you. You could hurt him before because he trusted you. He doesn't anymore."

Naruto studied him hard, turned and crunched and flew the ideas through his head. 

"And that's the barrier," Naruto replied.

It was a flat question, a rhetorical question, the kind you ask when you know the answer to see if the other guy knew the answer too.

Gaara shrugged.

"Maybe. Maybe you just can't do it."

He stood up suddenly and walked to the door.

"You're leaving already!" 

Naruto's voice wailed out plaintively, childishly, shifting moods and minds faster than he switched ideas and his socks. Gaara opened the door, and talked over his shoulder without looking back.

"You obviously need some time alone. Don't get anything dirty."

Gaara walked out. Naruto pouted.

"I bet Sasuke's still willing to play with me a little--"

The bed rocked and swung as he was yanked down on it, heavy sand pulling and anchoring his hands and feet to the bedposts, pulling his body taut like a rack. He knew Gaara would get new sand; Gaara _always_ found what he needed.  Naruto was grinning when the door clicked and shut, Gaara coming into view. 

"Or can Gaara stay up and play with me a little longer? I feel better now," Naruto chirped happily with a smile, adding in for good measure, "Gaara-san made me feel a _lot_ better."

Gaara walked over to him slowly, in the same composed strides. Naruto blinked and smiled endearingly, and said, "Well, this is familiar. Déjà vu."

A blade tip touched the hollow of his throat. Naruto squirmed, not trying to get away but moving to get attention. 

"Are we playing that game again?" His voice was irresponsible, inquisitive, and perfectly innocent. Gaara dug the point in until a drop of blood welled up.

"Yours?"

Naruto tilted his head back and pressed himself into the mattress, still trying to appear perfectly relaxed.  He waited.

"When did Sasuke become yours?"

Naruto's eyes flicked automatically to Gaara's who was watching him coolly, with a predatory glint in his eye. Naruto blinked.

"He's mine. I've taken almost everything away from him, so he belongs to me now. Mine to hurt, mine to kill. I haven't given him a choice."

Gaara took the knife away and rested the point on Naruto's chest. His eyes glinted.

"Does he know?"

Naruto smiled and raised his eyebrows, the tip of his pink tongue coming out to trace the thinner edge of upper lip, his voice still reasonable.

"He will soon."

Gaara lifted and flipped the knife, his arm swinging it back hard to drive it into the wall as he leaned over Naruto. He offered a condescending look before vanishing from the room. 

Naruto flexed and squirmed around, breaking the hold of the sand and sitting up, rubbing his wrists and sighed.

Okie dokie.  Time to start playing hard.

***

Sasuke awoke with a start.  

A second later registered the clean sheets, blank walls, and stale air to be his room.  His room in Konoha.  He glanced quickly to his side on the bed.  Alone. His body relaxed in relief.

His eyes narrowed, and he reached under his pillow casually, inquisitively.  

Life was a random collaboration of events and things, with little order and structure.  People couldn't work very well like that naturally, so anything man-made always had _some_ order or lack of imagination.  But then again, dreams were very random things.  And illusions were simply waking dreams.

Now armed, he walked through his apartment softly, hunting, checking the bathroom and shower and the closet and kitchen.  He checked under the bed, inside the bed again.  He had woken up half expecting to find someone else in there with him.  

He glanced out the window.  From the light he estimated it to be about…9 o'clock, or 9:30.  Some time in the morning.  There weren't any bruises on his neck or arms, but there was a scab on the side of his ankle that he didn't remember getting.

Finally, uneasy, in the echoey empty apartment he picked up the small cellular he kept for emergencies and dialed.

--Hello, Haruno residence.

Sasuke's heart dropped.  His mouth went dry.  His expression didn't change, nor his voice.

--Is Sakura there?

--No, I'm sorry she stepped out for a few minutes, but I could tell her to…It's Sasuke-kun, isn't it?

Sasuke paused.  //_Oh, nice touch.  Very nice touch_.//

--Yes, I-

--Oh that's wonderful!  It's such a pleasure to finally talk to you, Sakura-chan has told us so much _about_ you!  You know she talks about you all the time, it really is something.  It's always Sasuke this or Sasuke that, or something or other and she'll be so _glad_ to hear from you.  I'll just let her know that you called so she can call you back and you two can talk and…

Sasuke swore he heard a laugh.

--And I uh…I think it really _is_ quite endearing but we really would like to get to know- 

Sasuke clicked the phone off rudely.  He was not concerned with etiquette at the time.  

It seemed Sakura was alive.  It seemed he was back in Konoha.  It seemed too convenient to be true.  Sasuke didn't trust it but…

//_Pathetic.  How gullible does he assume I am?_//

Sunlight was coming through the window is streams, little dust motes drifting through it.  There was a muffled, soft thumping upstairs as people walked around, his room slightly chilly, and there was a faint tang of leafy chlorophyll in the air.  

_When was the last time he had seen sunlight?  Since this whole ordeal had started?  ...Weeks?  More?_

He couldn't stop his fingers from grazing the windowpane lightly, the panorama of village life right outside the glass.  He tapped the glass with his fingernail for the sound.

//_Shit.  This can't be real_.//

Normally his cynical and dark nature would step into the gap left in his brain neatly, but then it felt like his cynical side had just about worn itself out lately.  Not too much of course, but definitely feeling a little worn.

//_Alive.  And untouched_.//  

The early morning light was streaming down over the thatch-roofed buildings like warm milk butter, making it very hard for him—or anyone else in his position—to remember exactly _what_ had gone on in the dark stone place with that _monster_ in it.  Everything seemed brighter by daylight, clearer and so much sharper, chasing the nightmare away whether one wanted to forget or not.  And in his mind and out loud Sasuke swore.

"Damn it."  He needed the darkness for once to find the monster and kill it, and the damned sunlight just had to chase it away again.

//_This isn't real_.//

//_I know that_.//

//_It does look very nice though_.//

//_Of_ course _it looks nice.  It's supposed to look nice.  That's the point._//

He fingered the latch.  Suppose he was being watched right now?  Just like a hamster in a cage, or a mouse in a maze?  Would it be better to play along and look for an opportune moment or start fighting outright from the very start and not take the chance?   Suppose he couldn't remember?  Suppose he got trapped?

//_Suppose I just find Naruto and beat the living hell out of him_.//

//_Yeah, right.  Like I did before, right?  …Like anyone's managed to do…//_

//_I just haven't found his weak spot yet, that's all.  That's all_.//

Sasuke's fist shattered the glass as it plowed through it.  The bits of glass stuck in his skin, the blood trickling from his had, seemed to fascinate him.  Pain was going up his arm.  His body said it had just been cut by glass.  …Interesting.  

//_He's not immortal.  Not invincible.  He can be broken_.//

//_And I'll do it_.//

Did he have any iron in the house?  Commonly?  //_In the kitchen…maybe_.//  Sasuke frowned.

"Hell with it," he muttered as he opened the window properly; never mind the broken pane or his bleeding hand.  Nothing that couldn't be fixed eventually, nothing important.  He breathed in the fresh morning air already beaten into the slightly smelly mold of civilization of fried food and old garbage.

His mask slipped for a calculated second of innocence*, his face softly melting like ice on the counter.  His eyes were beautiful, and the stark emptiness of his apartment only added to it, made it even more painfully handsome.

It _smelled_.  And not like soap or terribly fresh, but tainted with many people living together in a relatively small space; of faint grease and sweat, slightly trimmed with the morning cold.  Not a bad smell but a…Not a smell you would expect in an illusion.  Not one that you would call inviting.  But it was one that you would call _real_.

//_What the hell is he playing at?//_

Sasuke closed his eyes, collected himself, and then ran for his shoes.  He had to find Kakashi.

//_Play the damn game.  I don't **play** games_.  _I just win_.//

***

Quick summary: Naruto abandoned the village, became a demonic gangster overlord, came back and he killed you all and burned the village to the ground.  I'm being kept prisoner, and he has the ability to create illusions such as the one we are currently in.  

"And…when did this start?"

There was a significantly longer pause.

"Before I woke up here."

Far away, Shikamaru sneezed, shook his head, and then continued.

"I think we should have a talk," Kakashi-sensei said after a long period of not saying anything _aloud_ that had frayed Sasuke's bacon-crisped nerves.

"I'm not crazy," he said a little _too_ heatedly.  

He'd spent most of the last half-hour repeating that thought to himself, over and over and over as he walked through the streets and gawked at the people who returned the funny look.  He was not crazy.  Sasuke had never gotten strange looks in his life; only sickeningly sweet insincere ones; flattery and jealously, condescendence and hate, but never _funny_ looks.  It was…disconcerting.  He was _not_ crazy.

He could feel the brisk wind whip through his hair.  His eyes squinted in direct sunlight.  The ground was concrete and dirt and wood beneath his sandals.  He had his clothes on; his own clothes.  He had his _things_ back.  …That simple fact had nearly made him cringe.  

Despite appearances, Sasuke was nowhere near being an adult.  

"Didn't say you were," Kakashi filled in seamlessly.  "It's just that I think its time we had a talk about girls, the benefits of having one, and the dangers of obsession, glue, and other contaminates."

Kakashi stopped with the look on Sasuke's eyes.  He'd gotten a lot worse, and probably still would, but there had always been more to Sasuke's eyes besides the Sharingan.  He looked very frayed, very strung up.  His hand was still bleeding freely, unbound and uncared for.  It still _hurt_.  Kakashi hadn't mentioned it aside from a pointed glance.

"You have realized, right, that I'm either genuine, or a part of the illusion."

"I'm not crazy.  And this isn't about girls."

"No, it's about Naruto," and this time it was Sasuke who couldn't meet his eyes, though Kakashi continued on despite the other's color, "and you are under a lot of stress.  You shouldn't be."

Kakashi sighed heavily as Sasuke's feet sped away without a polite or even civil word.  Young people today.  What were you going to do?

Kakashi thought.  

//_Probably have lunch_.//

***

He collapsed to his knees on the grass; only he didn't because that wouldn't look right.  Uchiha blood stood upright; stood alone.  He was going to collapse.

"I can't see you.  I can't feel you.  I _know_ you're here."  

But Kakashi was right; if this was real or an illusion and where the hell was Naruto?  Not in his apartment not in the village and not _anywhere_.  Not jumping him or anything, and it was freaking him _out_.  His dreams were never this elaborate.  Never this alive, never with so much _sunlight_.  

Nightmares were dark.  Nightmares were bloody.  Nightmares didn't have _sunlight_.

Never Naruto as evil.  As a threat, a laughing demon at Sasuke's weakness, or some vague ambiguous warmth that he could never trust awake and never resist asleep.  But if this was an illusion…

Still shivering, his nails dug into his arm, teeth biting the edge of his tongue, chakra summoned in an unstable roaring heap.  Sasuke yelled, angry, let his emotions rage while his logical side kept careful meticulous watch on reactions.

"Show yourself!  Get this over with!"

He collapsed on his knees, and the smelled the grass burning.  Freud said you couldn't smell in dreams.  That psychologist.  That pervert.  There was always that feeling of obscurity, of inconsequence.  

The words—what he had said to Kakashi-sensei replayed in his mind, bouncing bluish gray against the cerebral membranes in his head.  Naruto was evil, a manic killer.  He said he had killed Sakura.  _Sakura_, for fuck's sake!  What kind of idiot would believe _that_?  He had destroyed the village he had sworn to protect, that he had sworn to one-day _rule_.

The dobe was a lion, a murderous beast.

Sasuke knew this; he had seen it with his own eyes.  He knew it was true.  But if…

Sasuke opened his eyes, the smoke rising off his gently burning clothes, the air smelling faintly of sandalwood and stinking burnt grass.  How often had he smelled burned grass?  Enough to know it without seeing it?  Enough to reproduce it in his mind?

…if it wasn't true, then why.

Why was he fighting for it?  

Did he _want_ it to be true?

Sasuke ran.

***

Sasuke crashed into him hard, slicing the side of his cheek because the dodge made him miss the neck.  

There had been a brief scuffle, a flash of anger inside Sasuke's chest but—even more dangerous—a flash of confusion.  It didn't look right.  _He_ didn't look right; something was off.  But was it something Sasuke had created in his head or something that was really there?  He didn't know.  He didn't know anything.

Sasuke's hands slammed against the tree, yanking at the tree's own energy to further dig his knee into the blonde's backbone and yanked his head up by the aforesaid blonde hair and bit him on the mouth.  Teeth had clashed, scratched, and the bitten teenager had a very negative reaction to that, and Sasuke had a gash along his hip.

It hadn't tasted familiar. He hadn't had time to taste at all.  It was an open invitation—he was _giving_ an invitation—and it wasn't taken.  What the hell was going on??

"Idiot what the _hell_ do you think you're doing?!!"

"_I said stop it_."

"Stop _what_!!?"

Sasuke coughed slightly from the impact to his stomach and his back hit the granite tree trunk behind him, before allowing his tai-jutsu to take him out of visual sight.  He caught on the to doppelganger too late.  He wasn't using his Sharingan.

"You fucking attacked _me_!!"

The gun barrel dug into his stomach, his kunai hard at Naruto's neck where he had tackled and straddled him, his other hand yanking Naruto's head in place by his hair.  It was shorter than what Sasuke had last seen.  From what he last remembered.

For three days and nights he had looked for him, felt the chill of night and morning and bandaged his itching hand and felt the need to eat and the need to urinate and he'd _done_ all that and he was more than sure, you couldn't do that in a dream, in an illusion.  He could feel his energy, flowing through his body and dancing at his fingertips.  A full-day illusion was unheard of, unnecessary, let alone _three_ days.  It had never been done.

//_But you can compress the days in an illusion; make it look like that_.  _It can be done.  I know it can be done.  I'm not crazy_.//

Sasuke glanced at the gun.

//_Do I want to be right?//_

"What the hell is that?" he asked mildly.

"It's a gun, _bitch_," Naruto replied dark green cool and angry, but not afraid, never afraid.  Not of Sasuke, never afraid.  "Get off me."

Cold obsidian voids swallowed him, dry and hard as the stone they shamed.  

"No," Sasuke spoke softly in command, seductive as a kiss and as relentless as death.  "That wasn't what I meant.  What I meant was…What are you doing with it, dobe?"

Naruto yelled back, into Sasuke's face with that annoying…three inch close-up habit he had always had.  Always.

//…_Naruto…//_

"Who the _hell_ are you—"

The insult seemed to click in his brain, clear blue eyes finally taking in Sasuke's face.  Sasuke's face.  Concentrating.  They both waited, but the body beneath him seemed to drain.

"You," the boy, nearly a man, beneath him breathed softly, dressed in beaten gray and faded denim, a hitae headband wrapped around one bicep.  

"…Sasuke?"

He didn't deny it, and Naruto's face broke into a beaming, slow smile, his eyes suddenly warm and soft.  Sasuke felt his control loosen, and didn't fight it.  He couldn't.  Never could, really.  He could fight a lot things and win, and would fight nearly _anything_ and might lose, but that smile was something else.  He couldn't fight it.  He kind of hated it, because of that.

Naruto's eyes walked over his face.

"…It is you."

The moment passed, gradually, but neither dropped their weapons.  

"So…is this some kind of mission, or are you just angry to see me?  More than usual, I mean," Naruto asked with pointed respect to the knife still at his neck.  

Sasuke leaned over, blue eyes narrowing at him instantly in veiled surprise and discomfort, and Sasuke touched him gently with his mouth.  Naruto went rigid under him, eyes wide open, but he didn't protest.  Cold metal dug harder into Sasuke's stomach, Naruto's head digging into the ground and his index finger itching. When Sasuke broke it, Naruto seemed surprised and a little angry.

"…What the hell was that?"

"Do you trust me?"

Face first screwing up in sarcasm, Naruto hesitated when he saw the look in Sasuke's eyes.  The fact that there actually _was_ emotion in Sasuke's eyes was enough for pause.

Naruto looked undecidedly cynical.

"You out to kill me?  Or just give me a heart attack?"

"No.  Neither."

Naruto blinked skeptically, uneasily.

"Really?  …Yeah.  I guess…" Naruto scowled, muttering "But not with Sakura.  Or any other girl, come to think of it—"

"Can I trust you?" Sasuke cut in before Naruto went into another rant about his lack of sexual interest.

"I wasn't gonna hurt _you_.  You attacked _me_, stupid."  Funny, angry look at Sasuke.

"Swear it?"

This _did_ earn him a funny look.

"…Yeah," Naruto pulled out slowly.

"On what?"

The familiar look of dense confusion crossed over Naruto's face as he puzzled out what the hell the lunatic was asking him _this_ time.

"…My father's grave."

Questioning hurt too much.  Thinking hurt too much.  Ignorance was bliss; wasn't that what they said?  Sakura was alive.  The village…

_His home_

…was well and Naruto was normal and stupid and boring and good and not evil or angry or bitter and was right there.  He was back.  And not gone away or changed very badly.  He was Naruto.  He was back.

And he was right there.  

Sasuke leaned down and kissed Naruto soundly for the third time; the first hard and hurtful, the second gentle and suspicious, and the third exploring and intricate.  

Under him, Naruto went stiff again, but relaxed still when he took the kunai from Naruto's neck, tossing it lightly to the right side with a soft sound on the grass, bouncing slightly.  His hand closed over Naruto's; gently, agreeably, the gun barrel fell from his stomach.  His hand continued to travel up Naruto's arm long after the gun touched the grass, rubbing his thumb against the metal front of the shinobi headband tied around his arm, trailing up to cradle his neck.  

Naruto's hands shyly touched the side of his neck, his back, Sasuke's fingers raining down on Naruto's stomach like warm butterflies.

Naruto moaned softly, yielding, and Sasuke's fingers picked up the gun.  

The shot rang out against stone floor.  The front of the headband had been blank; no Leaf symbol, no nothing.  Kunai didn't _bounce_ on long grass.

Sasuke broke the kiss brusquely for the hazy blue eyes grinning up at him smugly, the body still dressed as he had last seen it.  He turned his head and spit.  

"Bet you feel silly now."

"Not really," Sasuke shot back evenly.  And that was true.  Naruto could feel that was true.  

"Told you; you wanted me," pale cherry lips told him, green grass still behind his head, the trees still ringed around them and fresh air filtering delightfully through his hair.  "Still do.  Never would've let me do that if you didn't."

Sasuke looked him straight in the eye steadily.  He could feel the sunlight on his skin.  Naruto was warm beneath him.  Oh, it was tempting all right.  It was very tempting.

"No.  I want things back the way they were.  I don't want you, demon," Naruto rolled his eyes irritably and sighed exasperated.  "You're not him; you're just a shadow."

"Lying to yourself _again_, Pretty-Boy," Naruto drawled, annoyed.  

"Not my illusions."

"They are.  _Your_ fantasies.  I'm just fleshing them out."

"You're just playing a game," Sasuke said quietly while he aimed and pulled the trigger on the demon's stomach, the shot ringing in his ears.  He was momentarily satisfied.

His temple was bleeding badly when he woke up again, and Naruto was gone, only some of his blood dried on the cell floor.  It was dark, and Sasuke was freezing cold.  The stone was hard beneath him.

He looked around once, before closing his eyes and curling up as tightly as he could manage.

***

Naruto yaks.  Much.

Naruto came to rant at him.  Sasuke would be trying to sleep, sneaking out and getting familiar with the surroundings and getting something to eat from wherever he could grab and pray he could recognize the food as something _humans_ ate.

Right now Sasuke had been laying uncomfortably on his cell's stone floor, dressed his scanty clothing and Naruto's voice had just leaked into his brain, until he couldn't block it out anymore.

"So, I bet you're asking yourself right now: Is this what he was always going for?"

//_Go away…_//

"I never meant to betray anyone. The fact was that, I, never..." he paused and trailed off, his mind on something else. "The real problem, I guess, was that I wanted something very much. And what I wanted was recognition of my existence. That's what anyone wants; that's why people try and strive as hard as they do. 

"My...method of recognition was a bit more extreme than what most people were ready for, yeah, but it makes sense though, if you think about it. I mean, for the longest time I was only the Demon right? Not a really bad thing to be, really. I mean, I could have been a loser and that would have been worse... I was sort of that too. But not as much as I could have.  Been. 

"I think I came out on top. When all's said and done. I know that whatever faith or trust you had in me has probably just been completely blown away and I'm sad about that, really. But I don't see that I did anything really wrong, and I think that's what we've been having problems with." 

//_Shut up_.//

"You're not gonna see that from my point of view, which is somewhat less personal than yours. Not that theirs anything wrong with your point of view, it's just different from mine. That's kind of why you're here." 

//_I'm trying to sleep_!//

"As grim and dark as events are…this is really what I wanted. I bet you probably hate my guts, and in fact I _know_ you do, but even though you don't like it and nobody else does who was of interest to me at one point, this is my dream. 

"…Somehow I didn't expect it to be like this. Yeah, I knew it was going to be violent, and probably bloody, but I wasn't expecting it to be so… quiet. Very quiet. Strange. "

//_I don't care!  Shut up_!//

"I'm not sad or regretful, but it's so...I don't think I've ever felt this alone."

//_Good.  Go away_.//

"I've always _been_ alone, but I've never _felt_ this alone.  I don't think. Maybe.  It's possible I'm crazy, that I went insane somewhere or that the events have warped my mind just a little but it's strange.  I'm probably insane…I think, but it's still funky…that's _why_ you're here.  Did I say that already?"

Sasuke curled up tighter in the corner, no longer bothering to look at Naruto.

//…_Sleep.  Concentrate.  Sleep_.//  

"Yanno it makes a lotta sense that I die by your hands.  I mean, _improbable_ sure, because let's face it, with the way you have things going you're gonna take on the whole _world_.  Do you really have time to fit me into your busy schedule?  I mean _really_?" Naruto scorned.  

Sasuke wasn't listening.  

"I think it's perfectly _all right_ for you to try and kill me.  I'm cool with that.  I just don't think you're _going_ to do it, but I think that you should _try_.  I really do.  I mean you're _you_, you're Sasuke Uchiha, you can do anything you want and for a long time you really have.  That's really cool.  I mean like…WTF cool.  That cool.

"Not what you want to do the _most_, but everything else you can.  When you put your mind to it, you can _do_ it, and I've known you a long time and you _still_ blow me away with that.  You _do_ it.  You're amazing, you know?   There is not a fucking thing Mr. Perfect cannot accomplish.  F-ingly cool."  

Sasuke sighed irritably.

//_If you really hate me so much, why are you keeping me alive?_//

"Well that's just _it_, see.  That's the fuck of it!  That's the thing that keeps us together.  Neat!"

//_Fuck off_.//

"You know, it's pretty likely I die by your hands but it's a lot _more_ likely that I kill you.  Probably very soon.  Not to put any pressure on you, but you're starting to lose your amusement value, Sasuke, and that's the only thing that's been keeping you alive this far.  A relationship like ours, as long as we've had it, is far too valuable for me, to me, for it just to go up in smoke like everyone else.  I mean everyone else, they meant _shit_ to me, they meant nothing.  You mean a little bit more…not much more, and probably not in a good way.  You detest me I know, but the truth is you do mean more."  

//_Why not Iruka then?  If you're looking for a _**friend**_…why not Iruka?  He'd be a hell of lot more sympathetic to your fucked up whining than I am_.//

"Mmm…toughie.  Well…why not Iruka?  Why you Sasuke?  Why would I take a cold bastard over my old sensei?  …Believe it or not there is another reason behind this madness.  Cool eh?"  

Sasuke did not so much as _twitch_.

"The problem with Iruka, Sasuke, and the difference between him and you, is that, _unlike_ you, Iruka has a heart that actually beats blood.  It's actually warm, _alive_.  And…I'm not looking for that.  I don't want sympathy, you don't _have_ any.  No duh.  And I don't want his either; I'm not looking for sympathy."  

//_So this isn't about me, this is about vengeance_.//

"Well that _is_ you Sasuke, isn't it?  Vengeance?  That's your whole deal.  That's you.  Iruka is something completely different; he's _not_ you.  

"And believe it or not…I'm not even still sure if I was looking for vengeance, I was more like…I don't think I could _go_ for something that petty.  So trivial as that; I'd like to think that I was going for something a _bit_ more than that  but hey you never know right?  Maybe I am petty, I'm not sure yet, I haven't decided.  Truthfully Sasuke, not to badmouth him, but I don't think Iruka has the constitution to withstand everything that I'm going to shove you through and I think you do.  I'm not sure if I'm right and I don't expect you to hold forever, but…I know he wouldn't, certainly not as long as you have."

Sasuke curled up tighter.

Eventually, Naruto went away.  

//_So you _can_ hear me.  In my mind.  You can hear me.  I _knew_ it_.//

***

It amazed Sasuke what a little water could do, correctly applied.  He no longer had his tools, either his kunai and he had no idea what had been done with his headband.  The one material thing that he had been allowed to keep was his sandals; everything else was gone, exchanged.

It was very hard to pick the locks without tools.  And the hinges had been well welded ever since the last two times he had managed to get out of his cage by taking the door off them.  The fox-demon's fingerprints were still visible in the metalworking.  

But Sasuke hadn't been eating; he instinctively didn't trust the food after he saw what happened to the rats that he made eat it first, and anyway he wasn't given very much to eat in the first place.  What he did eat, he usually stole when he could when he got 'loose', as the fox put it.  If the fox-demon had called him anorexic before, he wouldn't be too off mark anymore.  Sasuke was painfully skinny, grayishly pale, and more off-center than he had been in some time.  

He always woke up in pain, and there was always fresh skin growing on his hands, and sometimes on his chest as well.  He wasn't sure how…

He always remembered fighting, in some dim corner of his mind.  Fighting and anger, the faint smell of burning cinnamon and the sizzle of electricity and ozone dancing over his hands from the chidori.  And there was always burning sensation over his fresh skin, a weakness, yet a burning in his stomach.  An ugly burning sensation all through him that hurt but healed, and didn't let him think on his own.  It was like being intoxicated, but without the pleasure.

Just a tiny bit of water, a tiny bit of squeaking, and he was through the bars.  

Slipped through.

His feet hit the floor, and he began to walk.  His back was pretty scraped up after that, and he picked his shirt up off the floor, shoving it on as he walked.  His memory led him.  The air had nearly smelt fresher last time…somewhere down here he had smelled a way out.  

He probably could have melted the bars down with the chidori, or with his own chakra, but that would have been a waste of energy.  And most jutsus…did seem to have problems on the iron bars.  That was innately strange; in all the texts he had ever read none had ever treated iron as something special.

The red bracelet stayed.

He hated it, but certain vulnerabilities could be very useful.  It rubbed his pride the wrong way, but…

It was too easy for those _things_ to find him.  

Sasuke hated that.

They could smell him, sense him…most of them weren't human and half of them walked on four-legs or could fly.  

Damn.

It wasn't fair.  

Every time he got out, any time he thought he was alone and lurking in some shadow because Naru—the fox wasn't paying as much attention to him as he had before—there would always be some leering face glossing over him, yellow eyes leering.  

Some of them—the vampires especially—didn't _have_ life energy, so there was no usual way to sense them.  They were dead flesh that still moved, stronger than living flesh.  If they were still, Sasuke never knew they were there until they made themselves obvious.  Later, he learned they had a distinct kind of…smell, almost.  A dead atmosphere, like a walking graveyard.  

Mutants like the werewolves, the cat-things, fish-things…those always sent a tingle down his spine.  He couldn't sense their energy easily, but something in his hindbrain knew when they were watching him.  The little goblin things he could sense without fail, and there were indeed some _normal_ humans mixed about, even some fugitive ninja.  

//_Traitors_.//

The fox-demon he couldn't sense at all.

But the other things, whatever they were and in whatever shape they were in, they wouldn't touch him.  Most wouldn't dare talk to him, and avoided him.  Some were stronger than him, all in better health, but because of the little red bracelet only a few would dare even _speak_ in his general direction.  

He had tried walking out without it already; pride had demanded it.  The fox had to rescue him.  Those things would have killed him.  He had watched them be murdered in his stead from his spot against the wall, clutching his bleeding abdomen by something he couldn't follow and would never recognize save for the flash of red leather and blonde hair.

They wouldn't touch him, not at all.  Not even to stop him from wandering about or picking up the odd weapon.  They might watch, but none would ever even try to touch him, much less try to stop him or fight.  If he attacked, they ran.  They wouldn't touch him.

No.  

That privilege went to the fox-demon.

So in the entire castle, there was only _one_ thing that Sasuke really had to avoid, really had to worry about.  

Icy fingers touched the slightly warmer stonewall, and Sasuke pressed his ear against it and…listened.  Really listened.  

He had seen the fox do this; he had watched him with the Sharingan.  He'd been tired as hell and he didn't even remember what had happened or what he had been lectured about, but all the Stone Jutsus the fox had stolen from the shinobi he murdered Sasuke was slowly borrowing from him.  

The hand gestures he hadn't seen, the fox hadn't shown, and that had slowed him down but the more he thought about it and worked on it the easier it became and the more it made sense.

Then, first by miniscule inches and then faster, the stone bled away from his fingers, flowing outward and around him like a vertical wall of water, and Sasuke stepped into the wall, and walked through it a few feet.  

He walked eyes closed and hands held out in front of him, the solid stone rippling over his fingertips fluidly.  The air was less, the feeling of space so very, very small, and somewhere inside him there were pangs of claustrophobia that he wasn't paying attention to.  He simply walked.  He was pretty sure he knew where he was going.

::_come_::

Then suddenly, without knowing why, he turned sharply to the left, the stone a little softer to push.  He had to be getting closer to the surface.  His face scrunched up and…

Sasuke broke out in a run, veering to the right and pouring himself into it.

Dimly, he heard a muffled curse behind him and switched course again wildly, the stone fighting back against him, cutting at his ankles and bare feet and tearing gashes along his arms.

Then he broke into fresh air—_fresh_!--, and activated his Sharingan nearly a second too late.  

His veins throbbed, muscles aching from the strain and the lack of energy.  He needed fuel he didn't have and had no idea _what_ he was running on.

::_When you try to strain the activation of a jutsu, not only will the jutsu fail, but you will also lose all remaining chakra_.::

//_Run!//_

::_Wasn't that what Kakashi-sensei said?_::

::_I really think you should pay attention to that_.::

//_Run.//_

::_You're going to collapse_.::

The strange Sharingan vision swallowed the landscape, noting photographically ever little rock and dent, and the angle the cliff face fell at and how far it was to the ground _before the landscape began to change before his eyes, morph into whatever it was Naruto wanted it to be and the minute Sasuke stepped foot out there he would go crashing on his face and shatter his bones into a gelatinous sack of blood and broken marrow._

_He was going to die.  He was going to die.  They were too high up; he wouldn't make alive and he was too weak, too weak, didn't he see he was too weak he was going to die…_

So Sasuke closed his eyes, fixed it in his mind and dashed forward, the dirty air pulling at his hair and dragging him back, muscles screaming.  It was easier than he expected.

::_You're gonna die stupid!_::

Sasuke didn't listen.

He heard sounds behind him.

He didn't even open his eyes when he felt himself fall, the ground evaporating under his feet and the air yanking at his hair and clothes.  He just extended his right arm and tilted his feet at an angle, falling downward at an accelerating speed that the fox couldn't catch him at and counting in his head before shoving his feet down to touch down on the cliff face and speeding parallel to the ground, jumping for no particular reason and air borne again, feeling something catch and tear the back of his shirt before he crashed into the tree and risked opening his eyes, dashing on before he even realized his surroundings.  He let his body take over; his mind was just there for security reasons.

Eucalyptus trees.  Or something that the bark could be pulled off easily from.  Tall and slender and scraggly, and not exactly native looking.

Sasuke was a Leaf shinobi, Jounin level, his rank among them unknown.

Trees were his best friends.

The second he touched the bark, felt the wood under his fingers and slight dusty murky organic smell of the fiber, he became invisible.  He opened his eyes.  The sky was a foreboding dark orange.

Naruto tried to stop _before_ he hit the trees.  He _had been_ a Leaf shinobi.  Trees were _not_ his best friends.  Demons didn't really have friends, but trees sure didn't like them much.  

They were alive, and while not _really_ intelligent they did remember fire's touch the same way they remembered the gracing sun and water.  Naruto starved them of both on purpose, but he hadn't yet brought himself to burning the dead grove to the ground.  Some of his employees liked the trees; a few of them lived in them.  

Still.

"Fucking hamster," Naruto muttered nonsensically.  "Bitchy-kins, medieval goddamned hunters the lot of them…" and gingerly Naruto followed Sasuke into the grove.  "Ewwee…damned weeds freaking allergies gonna start _right_ up…"

***

Sasuke hid with his back pressed against the tree trunk crouched against the ground and nearly invisible in his nondescript gray clothes, felt the dead and brittle but still _reassuring_ bark under his fingertips, and was very hard pressed not to groan when a juvenile voice made itself known.

"You, angel," Naruto stated critically.  "Look like hell."

Naruto was standing in a small spot of ground declining from Sasuke, looking up at him and keeping an equal distance away from the trees.  His hands were in his pockets.  He didn't look tired.  

At one point, Naruto had been weaker than Sasuke.  At one point, Naruto had been his stray dog, because he wasn't cute enough to be a puppy.  At one point, Sasuke had worried for Naruto's safety, had saved his life.

Remarkable how the situation had changed.

Quick as small anole lizards, his eyes darted back to Sasuke's.  "I sense your envy of my teeth.  You desire what might yet be not _quite_ beyond your reach…When have you ever turned down a free deal?  When it was so good, especially?"

His eyes roamed maniacally, and Sasuke stood up with his eyes unpleasantly cold and shoulders back and turned away, giving Naruto his profile and keeping his blood temperature at a chilly degree.  He probably couldn't escape as easily anymore.  Still he kept his hand on the tree, and felt the weak-reassuring beat of chakra through the bark.

"What am I asking that you protest so much?  I could offer you _exactly_ what you want Sasuke.  You could have your life's dream in some very short sincere seconds—"

"I don't know what it is you want."

Naruto straightened audibly.  Sasuke…had spoken.  Hold the press.

"Nothing that would tax your soul overmuch," he said in that same hurried, conspiratorial undertone.  "Are you interested?"

"I didn't say that," Sasuke turned around, and with his height and higher vantage point and Naruto's stance, gave an enviable impression of looking down his nose in disdain while stepping a foot closer to Naruto aggressively.  "You've been harassing me since I got here.  You _brought_ me here."

Naruto let that dangle in the air.  Technically speaking, he wasn't obliged to answer yet.  Sasuke had very nice eyes, he couldn't help noticing.  So very penetrating, piercing.  So very dark.  Nearly hopeless, one might say.

"Why?"

"I thought we cleared that up."

"No.  You say you hate me, but at the same time you're threatening to rape me."

"Well those aren't exactly contradictory circumstances Sasuke.  I can do that if I want."

Sasuke hesitated.

"You haven't _done_ anything.  You want something.  Something from me."

Naruto shrugged.

"Something you can't take."

"There isn't anything out there I can't take anymore by force, Sasuke.  Nothing in the world."

"Then why haven't you?"  
  


Honestly, Naruto didn't have an answer to that one.  He shrugged, and rambled on.

"What's the rush?  I like the taste of quality, the taste of surrender.  The feel of…an angel falling in my mouth.  Very nice.  Very, very nice."

::_remember_::

"Get out of my head."

Naruto only grinned obliquely, staring up at Sasuke through his bangs, confident that whatever he looked and however he acted the Ice Angel was a _little_ bit affected.  For one he hadn't broken his gaze.  That was nearly a declaration of war unto itself.

Naruto swung his legs into action as he marched—literally—up to where Sasuke stood, stopping a few feet in front of him, smiling that same intrigued smile with his head tilted to one side.  

"Come Sasuke," he murmured quietly.  "You have to admit it _was_ pretty enjoyable."

To his credit and a small knock to Naruto's gravitational center, Sasuke didn't react in the slightest.  Not in his face, not in his eyes, not even in his body.  His mind did jump a bit, shift and coil in on itself, but that was all.  

Unfortunately, Naruto was content to wait all day for an answer.  

Sasuke shrugged.

Naruto made a very small face and kept his voice low.

"Or was it truly such a waste of your precious time?"

There was a tense moment.

This was not a situation Sasuke cared to be in.  

He was talking about…a midnight rendezvous with a creature that hinted, had practically _said_ he would be interested in more, and if he straight out said yes, it was a waste, then it would probably have very bad, very violently mental retaliation on himself and if he said _no_ then…

Then he didn't know.  

They were alone out here.  There was no one around for miles.  And while Sasuke could definitely _run_ he would most certainly be caught, and while he could fight he'd be beaten like he had before; if the whole of the village hadn't proved enough then more couldn't realistically be expected of him. 

Naruto wouldn't stop _looking_ at him; inquisitively, immensely interested.

He had said that he could help Sasuke; had nearly said that he _would_ help Sasuke if he would just…

What?  Just _what_?

"What is it you want?"

"Right now I want to know how you liked your blow job."

Sasuke didn't blush, but he nearly did.  His eyes widened for a few seconds.

"Fine."

"Fine?"

"Yeah."

"Ah.  Just fine?  Not bad?  Not spectacular?"  
  


"It was fine."

"Ah.  Great.  Good.  Glad to hear it.  So you've finally accepted it," Naruto added on, scuffing the ground with his head down.  "But…why did you never question it?  I know I left it off as a dream, but didn't you question it at all?  Didn't you question yourself?  Homosexuality is something that when it spontaneously shoots up tends to _really_ unnerve people.  I'd…kind of expect the same for you."

Sasuke didn't answer.  His jaw was beginning to ache.  For a minute he had _really_ thought that he was off the hook, but it was only because he was being thrown into the fish barrel to be cooked.

None of the interest had faded, but an undertone of malice was beginning to make itself apparent in Naruto's stare, in his pale blue eyes and sharp grin.

"You don't have to answer that right now.  We have time," was Naruto's small reprieve.  Thankfully, he took his eyes briefly from Sasuke, and he finally remembered how to breathe.  His jaw _and_ his fingers hurt.

"So are you gay?"

Sasuke didn't blink.

"No."

"Like girls?"

"No."

"How do you plan to live your sex-life then?"  
  


"I don't."

"Ah, Sasuke," Naruto said reproachfully.  "What a boring guy you are.  And such a waste of good flesh."

Light blue eyes mixed with something else raked his face.  Sasuke had a vague inkling of what was happening next.

"Don't you ever wonder if you'll ever be anything more than a nice piece of meat?"

Sasuke didn't answer.  He didn't even _blink_.

"Ever wonder if you'll have anything more than your name and good looks?  That _is_ all people usually see, you know.  That and a decent killing machine.  Must suck to be you," Naruto continued with that same relentless malice, that same fluffy atmosphere.  "Ever wonder about the day you'll finally be, shall I say…"

"Free?" Sasuke finished flatly.  He wasn't going to be talked at.  "Like you are?  Hiding in this hole?  …I've heard enough of your rant.  You don't think very widely."

Naruto looked mildly, pleasantly surprised.  Then he broke into an easy laughing smile.

"Yeah, I guess I do talk a lot, you know me…  But really.  Think you will?  On your own?  The way you're going?"  
  


"What?  Do you want me to be like you?  Run around in circles laughing like an idiot, because I'm too scared to take the pain?"

Naruto paused for a second, but kept his voice low.

"You'll never be like me, angel."

"I'm not your angel."

"No.  No you're not," Naruto sighed and shifted stance, shifting his weight and his hips and shoulders.  "You haven't answered my question."

"You haven't answered mine."

"Mm.  No.  I haven't."  

And that seemed to be that.  With Naruto staring out over the horizon, hands clasped loosely behind his back, light on his feet and itching for Sasuke to make his move that way he could have his daily excuse to touch him, even though he really didn't need it anymore.  It was still nice to have it.  There wasn't too much for Sasuke to do.  

"Why me?" demanded Sasuke a little heatedly, but never too loud.

Naruto shrugged.  "Even if you're not in a dress you're still pretty.  I thought that was clear."

"You could have taken your sex if you wanted it.  You did before."

He hadn't wanted to say that, but it was something that had to be done.  He'd been skirting the subject.  But then…so had the fox.

Without turning his head, Naruto's eyes turned to press his own.  He took his time answering, waiting to see if Sasuke would break first.

"Yes.  I still can.  Are you tempting me, angel?"

"No.  It's something you've known."

"I didn't bring it up because I thought you wouldn't be ready, but if you're—"

"What the hell do you care if I'm ready or not!" Sasuke actually _shouted_ in his face, eyes snapping and Naruto was momentarily captivated.  "If it's only looks…if it's only sex what's really stopping you?  That now I know?  What does that matter to you?  Why should you even _care_ what I'm thinking, what I'm feeling?"  

Sasuke allowed a brief pause to see if Naruto would respond, but only very, very brief.  

"You don't need me to _like_ it.  You don't need anyone's approval."

//_God I hope I'm not digging my own grave_.//

"You don't even need me willing."

Sasuke held his gaze.  He couldn't help it.  His heart was racing.

"So what do care what I think?"

He waited longer.  Naruto didn't answer, didn't move a muscle in his face except study Sasuke's own eyes and drip off his cheekbones, but he didn't move a muscle more than that.  The silence was getting unbearable.  He had to say something.

"You want something you can't take.  Something that has to be given."

"I can _make_ you willing, Sasuke," Naruto pointed out.  "I did it once.  I can do it again, no problem.  You'll just be a bit more aware about the whole thing is all, and that's definitely some points in my favor.  You could use the relaxing, I know that."

"You can.  You've _been_ able.  But you haven't," and Sasuke clutched that fact like the last ace up his sleeve.  "That's not the something you're looking for."

Naruto looked undecidedly amused.

"And what _is_ the something I'm looking for, Sasuke?  You've already thought of something, I can tell.  Just end the suspense and get it out."

Sasuke blinked, finally.  

"I think you're in love with me."

…

There.  It was out in the open now.  No pulling back.  No second thoughts.

Naruto was leering widely, and looked ready to laugh.

"You're joking."

Sasuke didn't joke.

"You've gotta be joking you…  You little _romantic_ you!  That's so _sweet!  _And the evil demon lord captures the pretty angel and they make happy, romantic, and _redeeming_ love all their happy days and he stops being the evil demon lord right?  Becomes the angel's little bitch?"  Naruto spat.  "Very pretty.  I'll go vomit breakfast now."

Sasuke hadn't eaten breakfast.  He hadn't thought he could talk this much.

"Sick, isn't it?" he asked after Naruto had spit a second time.  "But logical.  What else would you need my cooperation for?  Why else would you care?"

"That's all very true right up to 'But'.  Everything else is bullshit.  As it is _you're_ the one who had the crush on _me_—"

"What else, then?  What else is there?  Why _me_?"  
  


"Because you're easy like that!  Because you actually thought about shoving me into bed before-hand!  Because there are worse choices than you!"

Naruto was shouting.  Sasuke kept talking evenly, composed.

"Why try to convince me?"

"Why the hell _not_?  It makes you squirm; it makes you wriggle…Sasuke I never picked you specifically to have sex _with_.  That's an added bonus but your _real_ reason for continued existence is because you're _you_.  Because you get under my skin.  Because you actually can _remember_ how I _used_ to be I find that hilarious!"

Naruto waved his arms at the heavens wildly.  "It's not about _sex_!  It could be!  It could be _easy_, but really, Sasuke…" and Naruto lowered his voice, lowered his arms, "it's 'cause you're a Konoha shinobi.  Because you were the best there was," Naruto smiled kind of wistfully.  "Because you're perfect.  You alone are perfection.  Sex is nice, really, and I'd really like it if you stripped and we could get it on right here but really—"

Sasuke wasn't using the Sharingan, and that alone should have caught his attention, made him pause and wonder.  He didn't _need_ it.  He saw without it; knew without his heritage.

To know Naruto would move, to know _where_ and how he would move and how exactly Sasuke could counter him should have been enough to raise some question marks in his brain but the tanned fingers squeezing the blood from his wrist sizzling with energy and clutching a knife was more than enough to take up his attention.

Naruto was kneeling over him, clutching both his wrists in a killing grip and freezing the rest of his body with his unnatural powers, so Sasuke was sitting down and leaning back on thin air.  Naruto had to exercise more effort to keep him still than he had had to before.  

He waited until Sasuke stopped struggling.  Yet, still…Sasuke didn't look helpless.  Held and bound as he was, with a known demon looming over him and inches from his face, he didn't look helpless.  He didn't feel helpless or afraid, or even look frustrated.  

This patience of his was irritating.

"Why you, Sasuke-kun?  Angel, you really wanna know why you?"

"Yes."  
  


Naruto nearly smiled at the tone of voice.

"Because I burned down the village, darling.  Because I killed everyone I ever wanted to, and even some more that _didn't_ deserve it just because they were there.  And even though that makes me…_deliriously_ happy, angel, it isn't very long-lasting."

Naruto lifted up the corners of his mouth, and his teeth showed.  

"And that's where you come in."

He waited for a reaction.  There was none visible, but mentally he felt something deflate inside that very black mind.  

"For as long as you're alive, a memory of them still exists.  A memory of me, a memory of Kakashi…even Sakura-chan, for whatever that's worth now.  But it's a reminder I can't walk away from.  And simply killing you won't end that."

//_Sakura?_//

Naruto smiled mirthlessly.

"To be sure…just because you were such a nice little beaver to me today, I'll let you in on a little secret.  And no, I don't love you.  I don't love you and I never will and I don't think I'll ever love _anyone_ so I won't have to worry about family and all the icky-betrayal issues that come with that but…to be sure…I do find an attraction between us, Sasuke.  Not always a very nice one, and usually it just means were trying to kill each other, but I _do_ find an attraction between us.  It's unnatural how we're always chasing each other's tails, how we've always _been_ chasing each other all this time, even way back when we didn't hate each other as much as we do now."

Sasuke didn't answer.  Not even his mind was shifting.

"Weird, right?  Really weird.  But I wouldn't go so far as to call it _love_, angel.  Or even affection.  I don't even _like _you as a person very much.  It's just something that keeps us crashing into each other, like gravity.  Something I don't _want_ to end…like it didn't matter."

Naruto seemed to lean back, his voice and eyes hushed.

"Just an attraction.  Nothing more."

Finally, after much time and some thought, Sasuke replied.

"Then why are you blushing?"

Naruto smiled.

"Because you look really _hot_ when your hands are pressed against the ground.  When you're all tied up, no where to go…and you've got that look in your eye…"

Dark eyes widened, his shoulders scooting back, and Naruto leaned forward predatorily, his eyes already on Sasuke's parted lips and for a single small 1/8 of a second allowed himself to dream—

--Sasuke took the opportunity to kick him in the groin.  Very, very hard.  Fast too.  Damn his quiet mind, it was too quiet.

//_Being uncomfortable should be an illegal state of being_.//

Added pain connected immediately upwards with Naruto's nose, and there was sudden feeling of speed.  Naruto got himself out of the thick of it quickly.  Sasuke followed up—from behind him, surprisingly, and Naruto had the first _real_ fight he had had in a real time without using any of his chakra or supernatural abilities, since Sasuke wouldn't be able to either.  He wasn't even able to use his Sharingan.

Sasuke was tired, Naruto had to note, but he was in no way sluggish or graceless.  He could still jump and flip and make his body snap back on itself, purposely keeping the fighting close-quartered because he didn't have the stamina or strength to use the distance.  Sasuke's style _was_ choppy; everything lacked the mandatory strength and power; it was clear he was quickly losing his stamina.  Naruto gave him 6, 10 minutes tops before he crashed to the ground, provided Naruto didn't hit him too hard.  

It was Naruto first that smacked face-first into the ground.

Naruto came away grinning gaily, laughing out loud, tasting the blood and dirt in his mouth and still feeling Sasuke's flesh against his knuckles and rejoicing at it, and looked around wildly, slightly disappointed to find there was no Sasuke to be seen.  Never mind.  He could still smell him, still sense him.  He was close.

"Nonsensical!  Yet you envy me!  You wish to wipe my ass!!  Butter my groin!!  Oh, you hermaphroditic monkey you speak with fool's tongues!!  That's a nice kick!!" Naruto yelled at the sky and cracked his neck, his eyes widening momentarily with pain.  "Shit!!  Very nice!"

Cold and hard as a tombstone Naruto could feel Sasuke's thoughts assaulting his mind, slamming into him in his moody, sarcastically dark way.

//_I hurt.  I feel funny.  I want out **now**!  Not later, not tomorrow even, I don't want to talk to you or anything else I want nothing to **do** with you I want out **now**_.//

Naruto wanted to laugh, nearly did, and instead threw out his mind searchingly, but Sasuke's physical voice found him first; the voice that could call even Gaara out.  It sent shivers up Naruto's spine.

"You talk of freedom but I'm locked up.  You're no _different_ from them.  Same callous stupidity, same indifferent cruelty.  Oh, you were raised all right Naruto,"

_//!!!!!!!//_

"You were raised just fine.  You're just like them.  No better.  Much worse.  Low level is a natural human _trait_, a staple.  It's an _old_ fact.  You can't even claim to _that_; you're a disease, mooning the world with your ass because you got _picked_."

//_Hey.  Cutting it close there angel_.//

"Volunteered," Naruto said flatly without turning around.  Sasuke was behind him.  "By my father."

"Yay!  So what the _fuck_!  No one _cares_; ever!  If it hadn't been you it'd be someone _else_."  Sasuke let that hang in the air.  "Shit happens.  Grow up."

Naruto didn't turn around, gave no indication of what he was thinking.  Sasuke was tired.  Emotion was showing through in his voice.  Sasuke was very tired.

"Torching the village does _not_ make it better," Sasuke continued softly, indifferently.  "And I'm not your punching bag or your whore.  I'm ending it."

Naruto finally turned around, his face academically quizzical.  

"I'll die here, if I have to," Sasuke said evenly, still invisible to Naruto's searching eye, "But not the way you want."

"What about your clan?"

"What about the village?  It was bigger."

"You really don't care about anything, do you?"

"No," Sasuke replied without hesitation.  "I don't."

"Then why fight if noting matters?"

Sasuke sounded faintly disdainful.  "You're a demon.  You wouldn't understand."

Naruto nodded understandingly, his bangs hiding most of his face and his hands shoved in his olive-green pants' pockets.  Sasuke hadn't been stupid enough to try and grab his jacket a second time.  "I see.  Well then…you won't terribly mind about what I'm about to show you next."

::_Oh, and Sasuke?_::

There was a short strangled sound, with a hint of animal-like pain.  Something fell out of the trees quietly to Naruto's left, and he turned around faintly surprised.  He had thought he was at his back.  Sasuke was getting _good_ at hiding.

He had to assault his mind again, shoving him down because Sasuke still had the audacity to try and stand up a second time.  His angel really was growing, that he was.

::_You'll die the way I want.  None other_::

***

"You know, I probably shouldn't try to justify my actions but…" Naruto looked off into the horizon, searching, while his voice trailed off.  "But that was _really_ fun," he said hysterically with a luscious grin.  "I don't think I've stopped smiling for one minute _yet_!"

Sasuke said nothing.  His mind was trying to push his eyes out of their sockets, trying to clean whatever was wrong with this picture, whatever new illusion Naruto had cooked up, whatever the damned _fox_ had cooked up, and focusing as much power to his Sharingan as he could.  It hurt his neck, his eyes, but he needed the Sharingan.  He needed it now and pushed his limits further.

He had been dragged up here, and thrown at the tip of a not-so-tall dead tree hanging off the lip of a cliff, the panorama opening beneath him like a baseball stadium, the horizon overwhelming.  Naruto was jauntily hanging from a tree tip adjacent to his.  There was no wind, only the still deathly air and tiny invisible specks of ash clinging to Sasuke's hair and clothes against the pewter sky and orange sun.

"It was really fun.  Sadly it only lasted a few days and nights, but it was still…one wild ride.  Too bad it couldn't last longer, but nothing good ever does right?"

The Sharingan could see through illusions.  He could nearly sense now when something was forcing his mind. 

//_…_//

"Nothing to say?  …No witty comeback, no sharp retort?  You always have one Sasuke, don't let me down now."

The village…the village Sasuke could understand.  He could see that.  It hadn't—the fox had attacked before, and while he was growing up he'd noticed that some of the old trees had scorchings that weren't quite normal but even that had been…even…

"I thought you didn't care about anything.  Nothing.  Why care about _that_?"

…The village was one thing.  There was still…there still something to…

…run _to_.

"I wish I had a camera," came dark laughter to his left.  "For the look on your face…aren't you the Avenger?  Aren't you the Angel?  Ice-man?  You don't give a fuck about anything!  You're alone!  You're always alone!"

It wasn't the village burned.  

It was the whole forest.  

"Don't tell me I've broken you already."

The sun had been a funky dark-orange color, even though it was days after the attack.  Sasuke didn't know how long and he hadn't been outside in forever, had nearly forgotten what the real sunlight _looked_ like.  The smell of burning…had been everywhere, strongest on the – but everywhere in the castle too.   Everything.  

…it hadn't just been Konohakagure.  Sasuke could see…everything.  Everything at all.  For miles.  More.  

Where there had been trees, green for miles as far as the eye could see and farther, stretching all the way to Wave country and edging the Sand and Stone, huge old trees that were ancient, some centuries old dating all the way back to the feudal times and had sheltered thousands been home to millions and were so old and strong and everything and it was just…

Almost as a sharp relief, Naruto's pale blue eyes watched him silently.  Pale blue eyes…tinted with lavender around the iris.  Hemmed slightly with red; bloodshot from lack of sleep.  

Those eyes.  

Sasuke had never seen eyes like that before.  

Those eyes.  In that face.  With that hair.  

Sasuke was sick.  

Naruto caught his wrist inches from his face, coming down at him at an angle, the tip of the knife barely brushing against the vulnerable, inside corner of his eye.  He squeezed hard; he could feel the bones begin to give under the strain.  Pain pricked; nauseatingly, Naruto could feel blood sliding down his skin, along the angle of his nose.  He could smell it.

//_Pinpoint accuracy.  Even wiped as he is, and he still has that accuracy_.//

Naruto didn't dare close his eyes, didn't dare look away.  He couldn't.  He couldn't do that anymore than he could let the knife go through his eye into his skull.

…He was drowning in his soul.  Dark, bottomless black, without end and without beginning, shot through with burnt arterial blood, the remnants of the ashy Sharingan.  Apathy oblivion and violence…

Sasuke wasn't standing on anything.  He was crouched in the air, hovering on nothing, both hands just _pushing_ against that direction, against where those eyes were.  Those damned eyes.  Straining and pushing, and nothing else mattered.  Time seemed to stand still around him, reality holding its breath at his command.  

After the first five seconds, after the momentum ended, anyone else would have lost their balance, would have dropped their legs as their body took over and said, "Hey, I'm not standing on anything, and there's nothing moving on me.  I have to fall now.  Gravity is screaming my name.  I have to fall _now_."  Sasuke didn't fall.  He didn't budge, didn't move, and found purchase against the empty air with all his will and soul to _push_ against Naruto.  

On bare nothing, people died.  

On bare _nothing_, Sasuke could still _fight_.

Damn.

Naruto felt his eyes go wide.

Fuck.

There was a splatter of blood, and then a scream.

***

*A line describing the 12 year old Antichrist from Neil Gaiman's and Terry Pratchett's book of _Good Omens_.

A/N: And I'm ending it there.  Evil cliffie, I know.  The next chapter is pretty much set up, all neatly typed and whatnot, and that one is only even _more_ darker.  Terribly sorry about that; only it has to be done, see?  That's partly why it's taken me so long to get this bit out, and why I've been going off on tangents.  Felis-san knows how the next one goes, but there's a lot in there that not even _she's_ seen.  

I wanna offer a _Big_ domo arigatou at Felis-san for beta-reading the very early evil draft of this one; that was hell to go through but she bravely finished it in less than a few hours _and_ gave me immediate feedback.  Give her all your green M&M's and butter chips!  She's a good cracker!  *glomps Felis and squeals*  I hope you like what came out in the end; it's still kinda funny, but it works all right.  

Oh hey…if you want me to reply to your review, would you mind terribly saying so and leaving your email?  I'd really appreciate it, because sometimes I _want_ to reply but at the same time I don't want to harass someone after they've been so nice to me.  I've been having some very pretty reviews that have majorly contributed to the making of story, so if you don't mind terribly just say so.  I like to write back, I just don't wanna be weird about it and sometimes I just don't have the time.  Still like to though.

The sadness and…complicated-ness *eye-balls Sasuke* made me procrastinate much.  Very, _very_ complicated.  But it's…done now, so I can get to work on the not so sad stuff and…be happy again.  *sneezes* I'm gonna go make some tea.


	9. I: Stone Temple Darkness

Attraction 

By gelfling

gelfling8604@yahoo.com

//_Thoughts//_

_::Invading thoughts_::

***

Heeeey!  Waidaminit!!  Wait just a polyp-picking minute!!  I see your game!  You will _not_ sink _my_ Cheerio!!  I see what is transpiring here!!!  You're all zombie thigh-fat people brought into animation by some evil force of forceful evil!!!  Shit!  That lipstick is the wrong color for you!!

--Happy Noodle Boy, _Johnny The Homicidal Maniac: Director's Cut_, Jhohen Vasquez

_I took you home  
Set you on the glass  
I pulled off your wings  
Then I laughed_

_--Queen of the Damned Soundtrack_ (I think)__

Rosalita…There _isn't_ any innocent.  There isn't any _guilty_.  There's just the _dead_.

--Hal, _Sandman_: _The Furies_, Neil Gaiman

Why do we kill people who kill people to show people that killing people is wrong?

--Anonymous

***

"Fuck!"

Naruto ran the water gently, his fingers digging into the sink's frame savagely and cracking it.  Damn it he needed to savage _something_!

"Fucking little shit…mother damned…"

He hissed between his teeth, his head bent inside the sink and water running over his head.  

"Damn it…damn it all…"

Water mixed with blood was running down the drain.

"Bastard…"

***

Sasuke woke back up with a start in his old cell again, cold and aching.  His head was dizzy, and sloshed when he moved.  They had fought, he knew briefly.  There was cold dried water on his face, thickly clotted on his eyelashes.  Old tears.  Old dried blood was matted in his hair.  

He hurt.  He hurt all over.

If he looked into his heart, it would have torn him apart.  So Sasuke did a trick he had learned a long time ago.  He could create a shield against the outside world easily.  But he could also create a shield against his own emotions, against his own heart.  It wasn't easy, but he could lock himself up where he couldn't feel the pain that was waiting for him.  He did that now.  Against the burned trees.  Against the bodies he couldn't see.  Against the smell of ash.  Against the smile and blue eyes.

One day, that shield would break.  Kakashi had warned him it would.  One day it would break, and Sasuke would be in a terrible amount of pain.  But that day would not be today.

There was no food to be had, and his stomach cramped badly against his spine, clamoring for food that Sasuke might not even had the strength to eat if it were there.  He tried to sleep without shaking.

Emphasis on _try_.

***

Naruto closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his temple, trying to stop the pain from flowing through his veins, from beating on his brain.  There was a problem with being a demon lord, especially when dealing with prisoners.

…Gaara would do this so much better than he was but…

If _anyone_ was going to do it, it'd damn well be him.  No one else.  He didn't _belong_ to anyone else.  If he belonged to anybody he belonged to _him_.  No one else.

Before the—the fire and everything, (and he sighed deeply) Naruto could hear the…not thoughts exactly, but alien sentiments of the demon he carried around in his head and his stomach.  He could feel them, feel _her_.  Now he couldn't feel anything.  Not a damn thing.  It was like she was never there, because while he certainly had her powers, her knowledge, but her feelings were just…

Gone.

Naruto looked away, and held himself tighter.  He wanted to crawl under something dark and quiet and hide there until the world stopped spinning so hard.

…He didn't know why he was doing these things to Sasuke.  Oh, he knew what he _wanted_ on a very basic level, but he didn't know why he…

…

He hadn't even hurt Iruka this badly.  Nor Kakashi.  Nor any of the others.  He killed plenty, yeah, of course he did, that was his job.  Right?  He was supposed to do that sort of thing; it was a good thing for him to do those things.  He was a demon.  He was evil.  It was his job to kill people.  That fire, that blood and that screaming in his ears that still woke him up startled late at night…he had done the right thing.  She had said it was right—it sounded so _fair_ when she said it, so natural.  Only natural and nothing bad or wrong about it.

But he hadn't…caused this type of _pain_, slow and lingering and getting stronger.  Not to them.  And didn't they deserve it?  Hadn't they deserved it?  So why hadn't he?  Why hadn't he hurt them this badly?  

So why Sasuke?  

Old hatred?  Old rivalry?  …Something.

…Damn it all, he didn't know.  How was he supposed to know?  

Naruto hit his head against the wall wearily.  //_Fu~uck…_//

***

In the musty gray darkness, Sasuke lay sleeping.  He was somewhat recognizable as a human being, being a bit tattered and messed up, but for all that he was worn out Naruto was always careful not to hurt him terminally.  He wasn't eating but the transferred demon blood was having the same effect as crystal meth; it kept him alive and functioning, but took its own toll on his system.

Near his feet against the wall slouched a gray figure against the wall.  Watching him sleep.

Naruto had done this before; it was nothing new.  It wasn't something he _liked_ doing, for many reasons.  Mostly, it made him think.  It made him feel.  He didn't want to think.  He didn't want to feel.  He…

He hurt.  He hurt all over.

It wasn't his eye anymore; that had hurt for a while sure, it still did, but it had healed no problem.  He could still use it.  He couldn't even see the mark the knife had made anywhere, not even on his skin.  His demon blood was in full throttle through his flesh; it healed him faster than he could cut himself.  Not that he cut himself, or anything.  He didn't cut himself.  He wasn't like that; Naruto knew he wasn't like that.  

He just…wanted to see how far he could go before something stopped him.  He didn't seem to have limits anymore; he didn't know what he could do, who or what he was anymore.  He had done things…that he figured he would have had to _work_ a little more for.  That would require more of a fight.  

Not a couple days.  Not three days and nights.  More than that.  It was worth more than that.

…For some reason, Naruto found himself wondering if he had been cheated.

Sasuke had nothing to do with it.  Not really.  Naruto wanted him to, but he really didn't.  He was starting to regret having him here, of showing him the ashes, of treating him this way.  Maybe he wouldn't hate Naruto as much as he did if he hadn't known all that, if he hadn't known what he had become.  Sakura-chan hadn't known.  She hadn't known a thing.  She had died…she had died without him having to show her what he was.  He wasn't sure if he should be grateful to Gaara or resentful.  Probably grateful.  

Even if he was a killer without reason, and had a hard time caring or even _seeing_ past his own problems, Gaara was still the only solid thing he seemed to have in his life.  He came to him still when he felt like sex or just like sleeping, and vanished without a trace or word when he got bored again with Naruto.  

It was just like before when they were just starting out, when Naruto had told him his plan and Gaara had called him an ambitious idiot but came with him anyway.  Even though they weren't really friends it nice to have someone to eat lunch with and think of when nothing else came up.  Someone who knew exactly what you were and wasn't afraid.  Not quite friends, not really enemies, but it was nice to have each other anyway.

 It wasn't so different from what Naruto and Sasuke had been in the very beginning.  After they stopped being strangers, but before Sasuke noticed how laughter could make him feel warm, and Naruto realized how sensual fighting could be if it was with the right person.  It wasn't so different from that.  It was a lot like that, in fact.

Naruto took a bottle from his jacket, and a clean cloth as well.  He screwed the top off the bottle, and held it in his hand, heat flowing from his skin through the glass of the bottle to the liquid inside.  He replaced the cap and shook it a couple times, before pouring some into the cloth.  The smell of undistilled alcohol poured through the cell.

Getting up and sitting down silently next to Sasuke, he began to gently apply it to his cuts.  He hadn't healed him with his demon blood the last time; there hadn't been the time.  Strangely, he didn't feel like doing it now either, even though it was more work and effort for him this way.  He opened Sasuke's fist, and cleaned the palm up gently, pouring alcohol directly into the deeper abrasions.

What the hell.

It wasn't like Sasuke appreciated anything he did for him anyway.

He left some food wrapped up by his bedside as well, protected against the rats and things.  Not that Sasuke would touch it or anything, but if he felt like it…well…you never really knew.

And Naruto walked out of Sasuke's cell—

--And walked back into the roll of the Demon King without a blink.

***

"You're doing pretty good though, Sasuke," Naruto told him while he lit a cigarette and Sasuke struggled to remain sitting despite his broken ribs. 

"Shouldn't be too much out there that can hurt you now."

It was Naruto's impromptu boot camp, some weird training he was inflicting on Sasuke for no apparent reason. He was allowed to escape his cell and chased down or dragged out and beat up regularly.  Naruto usually talked at him in the meantime about nothing important.  The other day he'd gotten a lecture about the evils of powdered eggs, and the wonder of instant ramen and polyester.  

He'd eaten what he had been given.  He'd woken up twice more to find food in his cell, wherever that happened to be at the time.  Usually a roll of bread, sometimes smoked sausage.  He ate it without a word.  He hadn't spoken to the fox since he had tried to blind him.  He ignored him, never looked in his eyes or at his face.  

On that dream, Sasuke had given up.  His friend was dead, and he took it with the equanimity of one use to losing that which was precious.

Sasuke had a new broken bone every other day; miraculously, every broken bone would be nearly healed by morning. He never knew how; Naruto would always make sure he was out cold before doing anything to him. His only guess was that since Naruto could heal quickly, maybe he was transferring some of his power over to him. 

Naruto had laughed. "Yeah, right Sasuke. There was a reason they wouldn't let me in any of the blood drives back home--even if they _could_ drag me there first. Nobody wants to wake up with fangs at 4:30 in the morning. Hell to drink coffee with."

But he was being healed magically, Sasuke was sure. Some sort of healing jutsu, something Nine Tails was involved with somewhere.

Naruto shrugged. "Whatever you want.  It's not like I care anyway."

***

And the extra training and given food Sasuke was receiving paid off early.  He escaped, and nearly got away with it completely.

***

These were real caves, Sasuke decided (he had gotten loose again, and had the marks on his arms and face to prove it).  They weren't the friendly flat top and bottom with some bats Disney version; these caves were noticeably…spiky.  Everywhere.  Stalagmites taller than him covered the floor and ceiling, made up the walls, slick with water and so smooth and rounded that it was difficult to cling to them.  There wasn't an inch to even _stand_ normally in.  

Sweat and cold blood clung to Sasuke's skin as he clung to the hanging stone, and he was marginally pleased that most of it wasn't his.  He had run into some trouble, and it had been some enjoyable excess.  Excess.  That's all they—those things—were to him anymore.

You could breathe the water in the air.  There wasn't a spec of light; it was if the shadows had chosen the caves for their smoking room to hang out in.  He had no idea how far underground he was, but he knew he was far from the castle. This place wasn't touched much by people.  It didn't smell like death.  It didn't smell of fire.  He didn't feel the tingle in his spine, or danger anywhere.  There wasn't any.  

This place was still…new.  Or ancient.  Either way, it was untouched by the world he had been living in, and Sasuke took to it instantly, absolute darkness or no.  It felt…kind of safe here.

But that didn't stop him from raising his weapon when he saw the light, clinging to the side of one of the upper stalagmites, giving him an aerial view.  

Ninjas traditionally were against guns, being too unsophisticated and noisy for their chosen field of expertise.  Sasuke personally at that moment couldn't care less.  He kept the automatic in a flexible hold, and waited for the right moment.  It was quiet, empty, and he still didn't _feel_ the danger.

Still…it could be trap.  But so obvious?  Moving carefully, concentrating, Sasuke moved over the rounded stalagmite he was crouched on, staying as close to the base and ceiling as he could.

Sasuke's eyes widened until the whites showed all around the dark red Sharingan swirling eyes momentarily, then narrowed.  The gun felt heavy in his hand, and though his face didn't move an inch or change color, his cheeks still felt warm.

At first he couldn't be sure of what he was seeing because after the pitch-dark of the caverns the candle-light seared the back of his eyes, making little flashes and asterisks move in front of his vision.  He had to squint to make anything out.

The bottom stalagmites hemmed up and met the top ones, and one of the larger, thicker pillars had been hollowed out, creating a small secure stone alcove with a sunken floor, oval shaped and filled with water.  A bath, in other words.  Sasuke had nearly forgotten what those _were_ anymore.  

This one was steaming, faint tendrils rising up from the mirror-like surface, smooth and flat, dark warm water with only the scant candlelight splattering over the surface like baby starlight, creamy buttermilk color against the black stone.

Sasuke stared.  Sasuke really stared.  If he had had the extra saliva, he might have considered swallowing.

When was the last time he had bathed?  When was the last time had he gotten to change his own clothes?  When last had his clothes changed??

…Sasuke stared.  He couldn't help it.

His skin felt crusted, he was covered in dried sweat and blood and gore of things that weren't even human and he knew he smelled.  He had always _had_ cold skin, but right now his toes were frozen solid ice…his body had been freezing for some time but he hadn't noticed it because he…

He hadn't wanted to.  There was nothing he could do about it, just like there was nothing he could do about starving or not feeling the wind on his face or hearing another creature speak save the damned demon when it came to curse and laugh at him.  There was nothing he could do about his captivity, about the fact that he _wasn't_ in control and constantly in danger and he was going to die here in the dark without a word and no one knowing and no one caring and he didn't want…

He didn't want that at all.

//_Damn.  It's too early, cut that out._//  He reinforced the shield inside him.  His grip tightened on his weapon.  

There was a faint sliding sound, a beetle's static, but that didn't concern him too much.  Naruto was more important.

Only his head came up above the water, dark blonde scruffy bangs smoothed back from his eyes shut and face slack, not laughing and not mocking for once.  Over his ears were a set of headphones, and a CD player was running next to his head on the obligatory red leather jacket, above the water.

He looked defenseless.

Sasuke stared.

//_Maybe he is_.//  He aimed his weapon without even _thinking_, his finger on the trigger.  And then he waited.

Naruto didn't move, didn't even smile.  Every time Sasuke had ever seen him, he had always been smiling.  Or alert, thinking…scheming.  Somehow.  Somehow this wasn't what Sasuke had been expecting.  It seemed too easy; it was probably a trick, a trap.

It was the perfect shot.  …Well, he could have seen more of him visible to shoot besides his head but…

Sasuke realized Naruto was probably naked under there.  

He didn't notice one of the skinny bottom stalagmites curling around his ankle until it was too late.

He shouted in pain and tried to drop the gun that seemed welded to his flesh boiling liquid-hot, the shout changing in meaning as he realized that he was being yanked down by a tendril of stone that was getting swallowed into the floor and—

"Sasuke?!"

--he was going to hit the ground pretty damn hard enough to break every bone in his body.

He realized he was still holding his breath.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here!?"

Sasuke's attention was focused on the ground four inches from his eyes.  His hair touched it.  He had stopped quite suddenly, his stomach clinging to his spine from the sudden shock in gravity and he was a little surprised to note that his ears felt luke-warm and slightly liquid.  The sensation burned him.  

"Well?" Naruto yelled at him again.  Sasuke didn't turn his head.  He didn't feel he had to.  He also didn't feel it would be a good idea.  He could hear the water sloshing as the fox moved.

There was a faint, irritated growling, and Sasuke found himself repositioned and dropped to the ground roughly.  The gun was gone from his hand, and even as he stood and turned Sasuke debated the usefulness of looking.  

He rubbed his temple and closed his eyes for an excuse.  He didn't see Naruto glaring at him.

"I thought shinobi didn't _use_ guns," came the chilly accusation.

Sasuke didn't answer.

"I knew they _peeked_ on people using the baths, being natural perverts, but I figured I'd be a _little_ safe here."

Sasuke initiated the tai-jutsu for speed, which made it hurt all the more when Naruto used his own abilities to yank him forward and scraped his knees against the stone, the backlash snapping his nervous system like burnt rubber band.

This time Sasuke had to open his eyes.  His hands weren't free; another Stone jutsu shackled them to the floor.  He was more or less on his knees.  Naruto was glaring at him.  From about a foot away.  Slouching on the rim of the bath, headphones resting around his neck, arms loosely at an angle in front of him muscles curved glinting and pale blues looking very sulky.  

Sasuke had been right.

He was completely naked.

And for a long time that was that.  Sasuke hoped and was hoping really hard that that was all that was going to happen, because as compromising as situations had been before this was a bit much.  He had started it, for one.  

His hand was burning.

Naruto seemed content to glower at him.  Finally, he noticed something other than his Sharingan eyes that stared steadily back.  He sneered irritated.   

"You look like hell."

"I mean really," he continued, sounding surprised and scornful.  "Wow.  Really.  Geez…  Fuck have you even _seen_ your hand?  You shouldn't sneak up on me like that.  I don't like it.  You can deactivate your Sharingan, you know.  You won't need it anymore."

Unobtrusively, Sasuke tested the binds around his wrists.  Naruto could see his reflection in swirls of indifferent red ruby maroon.

//_I thought I'd be safe here.  I didn't think I would have to worry about you_.//

Naruto came to the conclusion, "Take off your clothes."

Sasuke didn't even panic.  Just reacted.

He slid down across the stone quickly and kicked down while at the same time yanking _up_ using his leverage on the manacles and freeing himself.  He felt his foot connect blissfully, put one hand on the ground and prepared to get out and he _would_ _have_ except Naruto had caught his foot after it hit his jaw.  Then he yanked him under the water.  

He would have yelled at himself if he hadn't had a mouthful of water in his mouth.  He wasn't sure exactly about _what_, but he definitely would have yelled.  

//**_HOT_**_!  SHIT_!//

Sasuke broke surface in time to scream.  

Naruto slapped Sasuke's stomach against the sloping edge of the bath, where he kicked against it automatically and felt his wrists scream in protest as rock swallowed them up.  Stone manacles…really _hurt_.  They were too tight.  And they were bleeding him.

The hot water shocked, boiling, he felt like he was in a soup!  And Naruto kept shoving him back and ducking his head under water.  It was too damn hot!  

With his immediate attention on breathing and keeping his skin from boiling off, Sasuke didn't even think of kicking backwards, not that that would have been very effective.

"Easy!  Easy damn it you're not a freaking cat!"

The sloped stone hit him in his ribs hard, with Naruto's combined weight gathered on his back to keep him from wiggling more.  Sasuke was gasping for breath.  So was Naruto.

"Fuck!  …Don't you know how to swim?"

"Let go," coughed the darker teen.

"You're not going to drown.  And you _need_ a bath, all right?  So stop fighting."

"Let _go_."

"There's no where for you to go."

"Then let me go."

Naruto hesitated.  "No.  I don't trust you not to try something stupid."

//_You don't trust me at all_.//

"No.  And I've no reason to either.  So stop fighting."

//_Get off_.//

"You know this is supposed to be my fucking day _off_!"

//_Get off_.//

Vaguely, Sasuke heard Naruto sigh, and then pressure eased off his back.  He nearly breathed out in relief except his shirt was torn from his body in a quick, easy motion and his pants sliding—Sasuke fought back, trying to turn around and kick and became even more intimately introduced with the stone work as his face slammed into it again.  Not that that mattered very much.

Naruto tossed the wet clothes out onto the floor, before turning back to…well to Sasuke's back.  Sasuke's back that was trying to straighten, his head still bent at a demure angle looking down, looking down at his hands perched on the edge of the bath.  

He seemed to completely forget he was naked and had climbed up on the rim, supported on his toes and looking at nothing but his hands.  His skin--normally a pale color--turned a type of bluish-gray because of the cold and spotted because of the bruises and now splattering out in confused colors of that and a cooked-lobster red, trembling from the shock and probably a little fear too.  

Sasuke turned so that Naruto saw his side and profile while he tried to accommodate his hands shackled down.  But he wasn't yelling at him.  His facial expression was—focused, but not afraid.  Not even really grounded just…focused.  Like he wasn't really there at all.

//_Whoa.  Creepy._//

Naruto was momentarily taken a back, before he stirred his fingers in the water, the steam vanishing and the temperature cooling drastically.  Slight movement told him Sasuke noticed this.  He waited a few minutes.

"I've _seen_ you naked before, Sasuke.  Not even that long ago.  You don't need to panic."

Sasuke didn't move.  

//_Damn stubborn shinobi_.//

"We've even had _sex_.  Acting modest now is just weird," despite his own words, Naruto had to wrap his arms around himself, though he covered it up nicely by masking it as irritation.  As much as he wanted...  

"Now…you can walk in or I can pull you in.  Again."

Naruto waited; rather patiently, he thought.  

Finally he moved forward without a sound, one hand reaching out and Sasuke…panicked.  There was no other word for it.  He nearly jumped in to keep from touching him, got one leg into the water before yanking it back out, his teeth chattering and moving as far from Naruto as he could with his wrists pointing in the opposite direction.  He couldn't summon the energy to break free.  Not even enough for a fireball.  Nothing.  

//_…shit.  Shit.  No not here.  Please.  Not here.//_

_//I need to think of something.  I need something_.//

Naruto, for his part, simply watched, his face impassive.  His eyes raked over Sasuke's eyes that were carefully not looking at him, over his body crouched down and hands bound.  

//_Great, first the water's too hot, then it turns out it's too cold and now **what**?  What really_?//

"If…" Naruto gambled carefully, "I _did_ let you go…temporarily…would you be a little more cooperative?"  He waited until Sasuke was looking at him.  

There was no verbal answer.  That wasn't unusual.  

The stone slid off his wrists, that minor grace completely tainted by the expectant look in Naruto's eyes.  He really expected him to run.  Sasuke examined his wrists.  They were cut all around, and bleeding too much.  The palm of his right hand was burnt, a flaming red that burned and pained him like anything.

_//…I can't.  He's…**we've**…//_

_//I can't.//_

_//If he tries again what the hell am I supposed to do?  This is what he wants.  He said he'd…he said he'd hurt me.  He will but I can't just **let** it happen like it's…//_

Sasuke's eyes darted to the water.  

//_I can fight_.//

He could see Naruto's reflection in the water, could see it looking at him.  Sasuke's eyes darted back to his wrists.

"I could always go into your mind, you know.  I could make you do this.  Make you do anything.  …I'm _giving_ you a choice because you're still Sasuke.  I like to think you deserve at least a chance to prove something."

Despite himself, Sasuke felt his cheeks heat up and tried to think about nothing at all.  Tried to close himself off, erect some type of shield specifically against the fox sunshine.  Naruto nearly smiled, but his eyes stayed dead.  Cute.  Very cute.

//_Dumb kids…//_

"I think you can do it."

"Why not make me?"

Fuck.  And his voice _did_ sound bad.  Roughened and…Sasuke had the handsomest of voices; deep and dark and sultry.  He could make Naruto melt with his voice alone…  

Why hadn't Naruto noticed it earlier?  When had it gotten so fucked up as all that?

Naruto took a deep breath.  "Because it's your own life Sasuke.  …And I'm tired of making decisions for everyone and getting bitched out for it.  Choose yourself."

And finally he looked him in the eye, dark eyes beaten around the edges, tired and exhausted somehow even more beautiful for all that.  Seemed the more Sasuke got hurt, the prettier he was to look at.  It made him human, and not so damn far away and unreachable.  

It was the contrast, of seeing something so perfect brought down low; shaken and hurt but never quite destroyed.  It was in the way his shoulders pulled back, his neck turning smoothly like a bird's, ivory skin marked with bruises but somehow…

Naruto forgot how to breathe.

Sasuke stepped into the pool, not taking his eyes from Naruto and not letting go of his hands.  He kept his distance.  

Naruto remembered how to breathe again.  

"You gonna wash, or do you want me to do it for you?"

//_I will.  Stop looking at me._//

"I'm already finished, handsome.  But I'm not leaving you alone here."

Sasuke's brain caught his ear.  //_Am I close to the exit?  I'd have to be.  I have to be_.//

Naruto didn't stop looking at him.  He didn't move his arms down either.  

"Can I warm the water up again?"

Sasuke shrugged. Naruto's fingers trailed over the surface.  The Sharingan watched carefully.

Steam began to rise from the surface again.  Naruto eased back until his back touched the wall again, watching quietly while Sasuke rubbed one arm, studiously not looking at him again while watching every move he made.

Naruto sighed and jerked his hand; his CD player landed on the water, moving steadily over to him without ever falling _into_ the water over even breaking the surface.  Naruto replaced his headphone and started up the CD again, watching Sasuke carefully not look at him while at the same time try to pretend he was washing himself.

He was trying to pick clean the wounds on his hand.  Naruto would have to heal that for him himself; for all that Sasuke was fun, he was very expensive to keep.

Naruto sighed and leaned back, listening to his music with his eyes closed.  After some time, Sasuke actually dared look at him and wonder.  He cleaned his wrists carefully, and a couple of the other odd cuts on his arms that he had gotten, before starting awkwardly on his hair, keeping his eyes on the fox across from him at all times.

//_How far are we?  Close enough?  Could I make it?_//

His eyes darted to Naruto.  Against his will, his eyes closed, before reopening to familiar black voids, the Sharingan gone.  He was able to use it for longer periods, but it still took a lot of energy.

//_He's not asleep.  But would he notice?  I…I might be able…No.  That wouldn't work.  But if I can at least get an **idea** of how far I am...  I can remember how to get here again.  I could start from there_.//

Naruto made a face, sticking out his tongue and stretching his lips.

Sasuke watched quietly, then his face seeped into a chilly mask without startling.  //_Get **out **of my mind_.//

Naruto lifted a finger out of the water—not the index.  'Fuck you', he mouthed without sound.

Fingers rubbing his ankles, Sasuke pondered on what to do.  There was no hurry at this exact moment.  

"You," Naruto pointed out.  "Suck.  And not in a good way either."

That caught Sasuke's attention for about 3 seconds.  Then he disregarded it.  

"Here you are…naked, alone, in a semi-romantic atmosphere because I _know_ that's important to you, with you're equally naked wet dream—"

//_You're not my wet dream.  I don't like you.  I don't know you.  You won't die.  I go and go for it, but you won't die.//_

"Do you even _have_ wet-dreams?"

_//…That's none of your business_.//

"That's a definite no.  You have no life, Sasuke.  Ergo, _you_," Naruto stressed.  "Suck."

Sasuke looked up briefly.  He spoke very quietly, so quietly it probably didn't count as speaking and he didn't really mean to and didn't really care.  But it wasn't his voice Naruto was listening to.

//_Wasn't me doing the…_//

Naruto laughed, his eyes still closed.  It wasn't so bad with his eyes closed, somehow.  It was still bad, and Sasuke would have paid a year's worth of A missions and assassinations to be anywhere else, but it wasn't so bad with Naruto's eyes closed.  He didn't know why.  Maybe because he could pretend it really wasn't Naruto sitting across from him.  He could pretend it was someone else.  The fox settled down.

"Why are you afraid of it?  Sex, I mean."

Sasuke looked down quickly, holding himself lightly.  

"I mean, it's not all that bad, is it?  Is that just you being… _you_, or is there some other deep-seated reason behind all of this?  Anything I should know about?  I mean, you've had lots of chances with girls so I'd understand if you're a little turned off by guys, but you've never done anything with girls either."

//_Get out of my mind_.//

"Stop being an asshole.  Just answer the question.  I mean, really…What do I care in the long run?  Ever think maybe I'm trying to help you out, find your identity?"

//_No.  Get out of my mind_.//

"Bastard."

Sasuke didn't answer to that one.  He could have.  He could have easily.  But he wasn't about to be baited so quickly.

"You're never going to heal it _that_ way."

He didn't look up from his hand, but he did cradle it closer to his chest, eyeing the candles at the edges, the small flames dancing in the steam.  He could always…but fuck, the fox was a fire demon.  Fire couldn't hurt it.  But the water?  

Like Kakashi-sensei, Sasuke had copied down more jutsus than he had learned, Water Style included.  He could try.  He _could_ try.  If he had to.  Right now he probably didn't have the energy.

"You don't," Naruto added on garishly, eyes still closed.  

//_Fuck!_//

Naruto laughed, and continued talking easily.

"You haven't been eating real well.  That's mostly my fault," he stated with a wide smile.  "And anyway I probably know the same Water jutsus you do, maybe more.  And Stone can always counter Water and Fire.  If you had the energy, I mean."

Sasuke didn't answer, didn't even bother to react to that.  He didn't even get angry.  What the fox said didn't matter; most of it wasn't true anyway, and hardly any of it was useful.  His hand required more attention.

Naruto's face seeped into something a good deal less inviting.  Without provocation, he attacked.

::_lax_::

The water heated up further, warmth _seeming to touch even the marrow of Sasuke's bones, peeling off his skin and somehow it didn't hurt.  He breathed in the steam, a little startled but not afraid and  felt it inflate his lungs and caress his throat like silk, warm and soft and filling and his eyelids were steadily getting heavier but he didn't worry about it because at this exact moment he wasn't in danger and he'd been running so damn long and it was nice to just…_

And Sasuke lost the battle without even realizing it had begun.

He slid down, felt he was drowning in a rather academic way.  He was tired.  And he felt good.  The candlelight still glittered on the water's surface, a creamy contrast to the dark black-blueness.  It looked nice.

Latent, subtle abilities noted that there were fluctuations in chakra, in the stone's own energy and he half opened his eyes when he felt himself being turned onto his stomach, lying against the sloped stone with the water reaching up to his shoulder blades and his cheek flat on the warm smooth rock, above water.

And, in a detached manner, he began to panic.  

Beneath the demon child's ears, barely audible even with his hearing against the dark stone was a scratchy whisper saying, "Don't."

Traditionally, Naruto should have taken the opportunity to laugh, to really go in for it all.  Because this was one situation—practically the first time—where Sasuke wasn't actively trying to fight him.  The first time where he was nearly surrendering the will to fight instead of merely opting for the aggravating passive/aggressive resistance he was so good at.

Naruto didn't smile; his expression was serious, pensive, and he looked rather inhuman to be so still, yet handsome in a way completely different from Sasuke's own at the same time.  

So it confused Sasuke very much when the voice that touched his ears gently wasn't laughing it's ass off; he didn't even recognize it.

"Easy, angel.  Relax."

Tawny colored lead seemed to weigh on Sasuke's arms, on his back.  He couldn't even feel his legs to know how they were.  He could move his fingers a little…not much, but some.  He hadn't lost all feeling yet.  Either that or he was adapting to the fox's mind control.

Fingers that didn't belong to him touched his back, touched his right shoulder and Sasuke managed to lift himself onto one elbow before weight settled on top of him.  He felt his skin go cold.  His eyes went wide, following the movement of tanned, small fingers running along his right arm, turning his hand so that the palm faced up, burned as it still was and the torn skin edged with white from the water, from the blood loss.  

Sasuke didn't move.  He didn't dare turn around, and he didn't know what to say.

Tanned fingers disappeared from his view; there was a small amount of personal space returned to him before the warm heaviness settled again on his shoulders, the fox's cheek brushing against his own and his breath cool against his wet skin.  

Again movement provided wanted distraction, except this time the tanned fingers were bleeding.  The tips poked gently into the open wounds, creating a nauseous pain that didn't really concern Sasuke as much as the breathing that he could feel across his jaw.  The blood from the fingers was wiped into his wounds and…

Sasuke's eyes widened.  There was the burning sensation; the sour burning sensation he'd been feeling _all along_ in his stomach and arms and legs so much, the one that made him ache and made him sick but somehow he had always found the energy to keep moving and…

Sasuke couldn't find the words to express his horror.

Fingernails pulled the bits of metal out of his skin or coaxed it out some other way, and he could see his own _skin_, his own _flesh_…healing at an unnaturally fast rate, could feel his blood vessels colliding before his very eyes while they rushed to grow back was once there.  

He had woken up with strips of…Sasuke's eyes narrowed.  He should have figured it out before now.  Every time Na—the fox was ever bled the wound healed up, but there would be strips of new skin to mark the injury, and every time he woke up his skin always felt a little raw, burning in a sickeningly way, and there would strips of new flesh and he hadn't figured it out until now.  Now that Nar—the fox was practically spoon-feeding him the information.  

He couldn't fight…fight on _***What***_?!?  What the hell was he fighting on?!  Thinking on?  What?  

…there was demon blood running in his veins.  There was _demon_ blood running through his…

Sasuke didn't even want to finish the thought.

There was a vibration in the air before the warm steady voice next to his cheek spoke.  "Don't worry Sasuke.  You're a demon slayer remember?  …Naturally you wouldn't be so susceptible to the harms of my blood.  We're compatible that way.  You're still human; you'll remain that way.  And it's saved your life as often as you've cursed it."

Sasuke wanted away.  He couldn't move but he wanted an out, or at least silence.  Irony was not something he could stomach just now.  He slid down, his forehead touching the stone while his eyes stared straight ahead, empty as space.  

His position didn't make him anymore vulnerable than he had been before; it just made it more obvious.  He couldn't win this, not fighting as he was and what he had to fight with.  _//…demon…in _**me**_…_//  

He couldn't fight this.  He closed his eyes.

Fingers probed his palm some more, before easing off it, the weight easing off of him too.  Sasuke's jaw clenched; his molars ached.

Then, lightly again, he felt fingers touch his back.

He didn't want this.  He didn't _want_ this.  He could accept or he could fight.  He did not _want_ this.  

He could protest.  He could fight.  He could always fight but what the hell could he fight _with_?  He had already fought.  Nothing had changed.  Nothing had stopped.  

Sasuke had lost.  Clear and simple.  Even he knew that.

He didn't accept things like that, but he wasn't stupid.  He wasn't going to lie to himself.  Sometimes the fight wasn't enough, the victory was everything and when even that was lost, even when everything was lost and he had lost so much already why did he have to lose more?  Why was it always _Take_?  Always.  From him.  He didn't have anything left to give.  He had nothing left to lose.  But the fox would find a way.  They were clever like that.

He had already lost his family; that was a long time ago.  He had lost a home that wasn't really his; in truth he never regarded any place as _home_.  He had lost his friend years ago; he had been alone ever since and he had adapted.  He always adapted.  He always survived.  He was good at surviving; he felt like absolute shit doing it but he always survived _anything_.  Everyone else died.  He always survived.

If this was survival, Sasuke would have chosen death long ago.

"Sasuke.  Relax."

"I hate you."

Hesitation.

"You're overreacting."

//_I know what you want._//

Silence.

//_Haven't you done enough?_//

Nothing.  Hands tracing along his back, creating a flare of pain every time they touched a bruise.  His skin was cold from hatred and burning from the water, from the fox magic.  

Heat, nearly intolerable, streamed down his spine, soaked through his muscles to get to his lungs, holding his shoulders and squeezing lightly, thumbs pressing into his flesh, moving his aching nerves and bruised muscles, strolling heat gently meandering around the circumference of the blackish-green mark on lily skin, getting the blood to return to the system.

Healing him.

Sasuke closed his eyes.  He knew this game.  

His problem was that he had trusted the demon.  That was his first mistake.  Not a lot, not more than he trusted total strangers, but he hadn't suspected as much as he should have.  He had seen the face, the fucking damnable _face_…and he hadn't even questioned.  He had hoped instead, had been stupid and childish instead of what he was trained and born to be.  Wasn't a shinobi's job to look _through_ illusions?  Past the mask?  Wasn't it his?  …Some effing ninja he turned out to be.  Great job.  You want a medal?  

//_…idiot_.//

…he had trusted.  He had simply seen the face and he hadn't seen farther, he hadn't _wanted_ to see farther than that, he had let it get personal, let it get to close and even though he _could_ have done…so effing…

He _could_ have saved them.  That's what he was supposed to do.  He _could_ have done it.  The Fire would have never happened.  He would have stopped it.  He should have done it.  But he didn't.  He didn't.  For that face and those eyes…Fuck.  Again.  

…But he had blinked.  It wasn't a skirt that had turned his head, it was a smile that wasn't very nice at all, that had too many teeth in it and was kind of nicotine-stained and no idiot would ever stop for something as jaded as that, any _fool_ would have seen right _through_ that and he should have _never_…

People had died.  It was his fault.

He was feeling sorry for himself, feeling furious because of his own vanity and he didn't dare let himself grieve.  He didn't dare think on it.  He didn't let his shoulders shake; didn't give his body relief.  He didn't deserve it.  Why?  What for?

His fault.  All his fucking _fault_.

…After all, wasn't he letting the murderer rub his back just now?  If he tried to rape him, tried to…do _that_ again with him would he even bother to fight?  

He had trusted, so it was easy for the demon to bring him down.  He shouldn't have trusted.  That was his mistake.

He was making the mistake again.

He knew he was.  He couldn't stop it.

Hands didn't stop touching his body, didn't stop soothing it or heating it up to a comfortable unnatural state that he hadn't felt since the brilliant sweaty summer's breeze last August.  

Sasuke couldn't stop his body from reacting.  He couldn't do anything.

//_Weak_.//

Naruto raised his eyebrows slightly.  He was listening in.  He was not liking what he was hearing.  

Fuck…

This was Sasuke damn it!  Sasuke…Sasuke didn't feel anything.  He didn't.  He shouldn't be thinking things like this.  Naruto didn't want him to.  

What the hell was up with that?

//_Lower_.//

Naruto obliged without even questioning the request, keeping his fingers as gentle and slow as he could.  This wasn't what he wanted to hear.  He didn't want to know Sasuke was _alive_…  Fuck for that there was Gaara!  He didn't need anymore living!  

Sasuke hissed at the contact, his nerves twisting themselves double as pain stabbed briefly before relief flooded through them, Naruto's thumbs rubbing hard on a spot off his shoulder blade and down along his vertebrae, following his will completely.

He hadn't tried to stop the sigh that came up his throat, feeling his body sink down even more, feeling just so…exquisitely…wonderful.  

Home.  

Safe.  

_Safe.  _

Cherished.

//…_damn_.//  

He was going to fall asleep like this.  He foresaw this coming, and was kind of pissed because he wasn't going to fight it, but he was altogether too tired to fight anymore or even get angry.  The anger had finally taken its toll.  Sasuke closed his eyes.

Through dimmed perspective, tired, warm, foggy and _immensely_ pleased, he realized Naruto was humming under his breath.  Something slow, something…a little quiet, it seemed.  Sasuke didn't care.  

Fingers ran up his spine, pressing in between the joints, massaging them all around in steady, sure strokes.  Sasuke was completely gone under his fingers.  He inhaled and his eyes fluttered open when hands skimmed over his neck, getting right into it by pressing down over the nerves, pushing them around, poking into where he had been hit so many times before by the same damn hands and somehow…somehow easing away the ache.  His hands were so _warm_…

…Not even warm, more like…like really hot.  Burning coals pressing into his beleaguered nerves but God it felt really good to be pushed like that.  

The pain was subsiding.  

The pain that had been such a constant these past days…weeks…whatever…was going away.  And Sasuke had gotten so very used to them, used to _it_, the feeling that it was going away made something in him turn and inhale deeply, sinking slack into the stone beneath him.  

He didn't want to remember.  He didn't want to think.  He never, _ever_, wanted to feel anything in his existence, because what he was doing now certainly wasn't living, not by any standard.

There was the just the faceless heat and the blind oblivion, and that's all he wanted.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.  Oblivion.  

Life sucked.

So this was how Naruto was going to destroy him.  Make him feel good and then take it away.  That had always worked on him before; worked on him like a charm.  A fucking good charm…he had wondered…huh.  Not so bad.  Not so bad at all…

//_…don't.  You don't want to.  You _can't_ want to.  You're not really…_//

Naruto raised an eyebrow at the tiny foreign whispering in his mind, like a child under the stairs calling up.

//…_Don't wanna do this.  Not this.  You don't know what it'll…Please_.//

Naruto's fingers remained steady.  He was satisfied.

//_So even after your self-hate party, my angel still has the self-interest to try and survive.  Good for you.  Might be hope yet for you to come.  A real survivor, our demon-slayer_.//  

Sasuke's thoughts tapped against his brain again, pleading.

_//…You said you wouldn't…you said you wouldn't _hurt_ me.  You promised.  I could trust you.  You said.  You shouldn't be hurting anything.  Idiot.  Why did you_…//

Naruto said nothing; continued to kneel by Sasuke's side and touch his back and neck and arms, rubbing and massaging like he was.  He didn't need to look to know that Sasuke was crying in his sleep.  

Sasuke had endured hell and worse, but people had…

…strange breaking points.  

Naruto hadn't thought that gentleness could be used as a weapon.  He should have.  In retrospect he should have.  But he hadn't.

He waited until Sasuke had fallen asleep completely before kissing him.

***

Gaara on the other hand…was not seething. He was not angry. And no, that was not sarcasm.

He wasn't angry. 

He wasn't. 

But he _wanted_ to be. 

He felt empty. He felt confused, swirly. 

Naruto wanted Sasuke. _How_ Naruto wanted Sasuke, what _as_ exactly, was uncertain, because not even Naruto knew. He just knew he did, and was waiting for everything to fall in place from there. 

Gaara had always known of this attraction, of this desire. He had known of it forever, back when he had first really _met_ Sasuke and fought Naruto for him, for his life. The first time he had really paid attention to them was when Naruto was saving Sasuke's life from him, willing to kill Gaara to achieve it. There was an attraction there, a bond he couldn't quite understand but knew it was there.

It was never news to him. It had never really… _meant_ anything _special_ to him…but now it was a big deal. Now it took up large parts of himself thinking about it. Naruto wanted Sasuke. As an enemy or rival or friend or lover…who the hell _knew_? Really knew? Gaara didn't know, but he understood it to a degree.

Naruto wanted Sasuke's attention, all of it. He wanted to be his world. The dark world, the unforgiving world, the peaceful world, the happy world. He wanted to be all of that, for Sasuke. 

And it was just now bothering Gaara.

Naruto had hunted him, had laughed and cursed and hated and tried to kill him…and then he had rescued him and…said he cared. Not how much, or how exactly he cared or what Gaara _meant_ to him, but just that he cared. Somehow. And that he wouldn't leave Gaara.  That was…

Something moved in Gaara's peripheral vision, and turned to a bloody scrap on his whim. A mountain hare. Big deal.

He had no idea how Gaara thought of him; what he wanted of him.  He thought it was just sleep and sex…he really thought that was all.  Simple companionship.  He thought that was all Gaara needed.  Simple friendship.  

Sasuke could bring emotions out in Naruto that Gaara had only been able to touch lightly a few times. Anger, jealously, real laughter--and Sasuke did it all so effortlessly. Without even really trying. Naruto seemed so alive, his smile beamed and his snarl killed when he was talking to Sasuke, talking about Sasuke. 

Gaara could even tell when Naruto was thinking about Sasuke, because his eyes always seemed to be looking at something very far away--a sort of melancholy contentment. Naruto was almost never sad--if he was he never allowed Gaara to see him that way. But when he was with Sasuke…his eyes seemed to burn dully, seemed to reflect the pale light of the stars in the lapis and cerulean shards. It was easy to tell when Naruto was thinking about Sasuke.

Gaara meant something to Naruto. Sasuke meant something to Naruto. Even the pink girl, Sakura, still meant something to Naruto. He had never been forgiven for that, Gaara knew. He still hadn't been forgiven--which hurt, not because he was sorry it had happened, because he wasn't, but hurt because Naruto still held it against him. Still didn't…something to him. About Gaara. Naruto still didn't _something_ Gaara…

…after he had done--Gaara didn't blush, but his blood still shivered once, warmed and hurt and healed all in a simultaneous paradoxical biological reaction. After he had done… _that_…with him. To him. For him.

…fuck…

_//…me again…// _

Mainly, it meant that even if Sasuke were dead, he would still mean a lot of Naruto. 

Killing him wouldn't solve anything, wouldn't gain attention. This was one situation where killing would not make a whole lot of difference. It would only make more facts, make things permanent. But it wouldn't win Sasuke's spot that Naruto had made for him. It would just lock it up.

Gaara didn't want to lock it up.  He wanted it for himself.

***

Naruto sighed loudly and snuggled more into his pillow. It, like the sheets, smelled of sweat and sex, of Gaara and him. 

Gaara who wasn't there right then. Who hadn't been there for three days running. 

The last time was in the morning, watching Gaara walk out the door showered and silent. He should've picked up the signs earlier. But there were a lot of things Naruto should have done, should be able to do and be _doing_, but because he wasn't Superman or as immortal and capable as people believed, as untouchable as he had made himself seem to everyone and everything he couldn't control the world as much as he wanted to.

Made himself look the devil.

//_Well…maybe the devil's not holding all the cards.  Maybe he's not as cool as you think he is.  Maybe he's just stumbling around too, did you ever think of that?  …Stupid Sasuke.  I hate Sasuke.  I **hate** Sasuke_.// 

Naruto finally said the thoughts in his head that had been sneaking up on him from every corner, from every direction, from every time he heard footsteps carefully trying to be silent running away from him, from every time Gaara looked at his shoulder with that intense and foggy longing and walked out, from every time Sasuke refused to acknowledge him. Told him he was beyond hating him. Told him he didn't care if he lived or died anymore. 

_//…And everything was *not* falling together_…//

Naruto sighed again and squirmed, wanting to cry a little bit. Not a deep heartfelt liquidation of woes, but just an indulgent little sob where he felt sorry for himself, then would bounce back up and give someone hell. Make things a little better, a little more lively again. It had been so lively before, when Sasuke and--

--And Sakura was here. 

He didn't though, in case Gaara suddenly came in. There'd be hell to explain, or at least hell to run from in Naruto's case. 

He was jerked awake some hours later.

"What the hell do you think you're doing in my bed?"

Naruto drooped down from his shoulder, too exhausted and depressed to even comeback with a good insult or sarcasm. 

"Laying on it. What do you think?"

Everyone was PMSing at him, it seemed, and the really _weird_ thing in his castle of the undead was that they were all _guys_.  How could guys PMS?  It was amazing!  

At least Gaara looked clean though.  Cranky, but clean and pretty healthy, or at least as healthy as he ever looked.  There were still circles around his eyes, thinner though, and there seemed to be more life in his eyes lately.  He smelled faintly like blood; he usually did.

He jerked Naruto's head up by his hair, drinking in his eyes before Naruto shoved his hand away, wincing when Gaara gripped his shoulder painfully hard.  

"Your little fuck toy doesn't work quite right, does he? …Maybe he's broken."  

It was freaky to watch Gaara smirk.  He didn't seem to be moving at all, his face never showed emotion naturally.  Everything was orchestrated, like he was a machine or a doll.  It was freaky…and he always looked young, no matter what.  It was an adult expression on a young face; it was just freaky.

Naruto scowled, and pushed Gaara away, harder than either were expecting and got off the bed. 

"He's not a toy…" he muttered sulkily, heading slouched to the door. Gaara watched in amazement and near admiration. 

"What did he _do_ to you?"

Naruto slowed down, his ears pricked hopefully for a bit of pity. 

"You idiot. And you let him in too…look how low he's brought you."

Well, Gaara sounded cheerful. Like he was laughing. Probably thought the whole thing was funny as hell. Naruto sighed again, prayed for sarcasm, and decided just to walk out and deal with Gaara later on, on his own terms. Anyway, Gaara was dependent on him now. It wasn't like he could stay away.

"Naruto."

He put his hand on the doorknob, pulled, and looked down. Sand was chinked in between the hinges and piled up against the wooden door. He could feel Gaara smirking at his back. 

"Get back here."

Naruto sighed again, silently this time, and just for theatrics placed his fingertips on the wooden door and closed his eyes. Fragments burst and splintered out, some smoking and catching fire in the hallway. Gaara was going to have to get himself a new room. This one needed repairs. 

"See you later," was all Naruto said.

Gaara watched in mild surprise, a little consternation rumbling in his stomach and considered going after him before deciding against it. Naruto was dependent on him now. It wasn't like he could stay away long. _Especially_ with his little fuck toy broken, or unwilling. Tonight proved that. And yet…for him to use his powers so lightly…Wow.

Sasuke really had him hung up over him.

Gaara couldn't help pulling back his lips to show his teeth.

***

Under his breath Sasuke whimpered and crunched his stomach more, pressing his arm into it to get the hunger pangs to stop.  

Light danced in front of his eyes, inside of his brain.  He couldn't think.  He was going to be sick.  

He was sick.  He was starving.

He closed his eyes hard, tried not to move much curled into as small a ball as he could fit to try and conserve warmth.  He was freezing.  God he just wanted to sleep.  He couldn't get out.  This wasn't even a real cell; just a hole in the solid stone, without door or light or air.  He was running out of air.  It was a hole in solid rock and he was trapped in it.  If he had the chakra he could move the stone, get out that way.  He didn't have it.  

If he couldn't get out he couldn't eat.  No one fed him, and when they did they tried to poison him.  Suppose they forgot about him completely, left him here to die?

//…_Just sleep.  Just sleep now and later…later…later I can think of something else.  Later.//_

_//Fuck_.//

_//…yeah.  That later.  Later._//

Finally, gently…he could feel himself drifting…

Sasuke awoke to find himself being dragged out by the back of his shirt, thrown against the wall outside a hall.  He had a short glimpse of Naruto striding towards him, eyes hard and steady, sheer _power_ seeming to roll off him in waves.

Pain exploded in his jaw quicker than he could see, Naruto's foot indenting his stomach and throwing him down the hall a feet to hit first against the ceiling before falling down to the floor, hands held out and struggling to find whatever energy reservoirs he might have had left and--

The back of his skull cracked against the naked stone, pain numbing everything out and a furious golden stampede banging on the thin sheet of his mental barriers, screaming for entrance, cracking the shielding and nearly coming through and Sasuke hit the dirt outside of the castle before his mind fell apart.  He curled up, remembered who and what he was and tried to get his bearings.

Fresh wind whipped harshly over his head.

"So…Sasuke.  We've talked a lot about me.  Let's talk about you now."  Naruto had smiled mirthlessly, his voice dry.  He hadn't looked at his face.  He couldn't.

"Start with your brother.  We'll work our way down from there."

That was a command.  

***

Heeeey!  Waidaminit!!  Wait just a polyp-picking minute!!  I see your game!  You will _not_ sink _my_ Cheerio!!  I see what is transpiring here!!!  You're all zombie thigh-fat people brought into animation by some evil force of forceful evil!!!  Shit!  That lipstick is the wrong color for you!!

--Happy Noodle Boy, _Johnny The Homicidal Maniac: Director's Cut_, Jhohen Vasquez

***

The fox made him talk.  He forced him.  

Sasuke Uchiha is beyond pain, beyond humiliation, coasting on the other side of both.  He talks now of what he was taught, defaulting to his training that Kakashi gave him instinctively.  Morality and teamwork; ethics aren't something that's paramount to him, but it's something he knows.  He is not real sure what he is saying or what he means.  He just talks.  He won't have the fox in his head again.

The wind dry as bone cuts across his skin, pulls away at his sweat and smell, but his words are still heard.  His throat aches, tongue thick and he pays it no mind.  His eyes are steady and dry.  The wind took what moisture they had.  The fox is flaming, burning.  He isn't afraid of it.

"They died for you.  They would have died for you and you killed them and it means nothing to you."

"They would have killed me!  At _any_ time, _any_ moment they wanted to _always_."

"But they didn't.  You did.  That's the point.  Maybe they did want to, maybe they did hate you, but they had every right to be afraid."

Naruto couldn't disagree with that.  It was so stupid it was true; he wasn't going to beat an idiot at his own game.  His voice was bitter.  "Maybe they should have killed me, then, when they had the chance.  They should have, but they were afraid."

Sasuke lifted an eyebrow with killing precision.  "Of what?  A snotty brat with tacky clothes and no skills?  I could have killed you easily; you were never a challenge."

Naruto laughed softly, "In your dreams, Pin-Up Boy.  You _did_ try, and you couldn't do it."

Sasuke shrugged.  He never looks at him; just at the ground.  His eyes are blank, unfocused.

"You're not the one I'm after." 

Naruto's expression reeled.

Just like that he said it, out in the open where anyone could hear it and it became a true thing.

_//…//_

"You're not the one I care about.  As for the others, well," Sasuke shrugged again, as human as he ever was, cold and distant and beautiful.  

"Maybe they thought you were worth something."  Black touched blue for the first time in what seemed years, gently, not out of gentleness but because strength wasn't needed.  He's hurt him.  He knows he's hurt him, so he looks at him.

Naruto didn't flinch, obviously, but he didn't answer either, for a short time.

//_There's your weakness.  Which bit was it?  The part where I said I didn't care?  Or the part where you're not important?  I wonder_.//

"They were stupid," Naruto answered evenly.  "And now they're dead.  I'm not sorry."

Sasuke shrugged.  "Whatever."

***

What _right_ did they have to decide my future? Because they were older? Because they were the adults and I was the kid so that made everything _ok_? Because I couldn't say anything? Because I couldn't fight back? 

They chose a child, a weakling, to do their dirty work, to be the lamb, and then they got _pissed_ because I don't go where I'm _led!_ I go where _I_ want, where I say, now _I'm_ the adult and _I_ have the power! 

They had no right. They had no right to lock me up like that, to throw me into life without a compass or a guide, to just come out of it _clean_ because I was the fucking-brilliant-Hokage's son. 

…The father who gave his own son to the wolves, who died for the wolves that tore his son apart. 

No. 

No, I'm not him, and I hope I never am.

***

Dry wind cut close to the ground, but sandwiched between the stone at his back and the fox creature in front of him, it didn't touch Sasuke.  His shoulders were shaking slightly, head down against his chest with one arm limp at his side and the other thrown across his legs.  He isn't crying.  He has only cried once while awake, and he isn't going to start again now.  

"Heh, it's kinda funny though isn't it Sasuke?  How you didn't even _ask_ about anything or anyone else until I showed you…how you didn't even call me traitor then, not like you're doing now.  In the beginning all you could think about was your own pretty shitty self; all of sudden now everybody else is more important.  Now that they're gone."

He looks relaxed.  His face and eyes are blank and shiny, perfect as a wax statue.  His hair still hangs artistically down, perfectly impossibly pure black.  He doesn't seem real, not really connected this world or hard stone and cold wind.  His fingers don't move, don't even twitch for long spans of time.  But for the subtle rise of his chest and the infrequent blinking of his eyes, he could be dead.  

"You never care about _anyone_ until they're gone, until it's really too late.  You never would have noticed if I hadn't showed you directly.  You arrogant bastard.  And you actually look down on _me_."

"I think you were right.  You don't care about anything, anyone.  Just yourself.  Huh," Naruto was laughing softly, "Hell…that sounds familiar, but I believe it's true on you.  You're cold enough to do it.  Compared to you, I'm not even sure half the things here have the right to call themselves demons.  Not compared to you darling."

"Angel," Naruto whispered in his ear, his lips brushing his icy skin, "Do you see it now?  Do you see why I want you by my side?"  He put his hands on his shoulders, and Sasuke didn't bother to shove him away.  He could have done, but he didn't bother.  "You're just like me; you always were.  We're not so different, and I want…"

"I want you back on my side.  If you're angry with me that's cool, and if you want to beat me up some that's okay too.  But I want you back on my side; I need you back on my side.  Not as lovers, not as friends if you don't want to…but I want your allegiance."

"No."  There was warm breath against his neck, waking free breath against his skin.  Sasuke hadn't pushed him away yet.  He was saying no, but he hadn't pushed him away yet.  Actions had always spoken louder than words with Sasuke.

"You have no one to lose now.  I can give you anything, anyone…your brother is no match against me, and he _knows_ it, Sasuke."

"I have to kill him.  I have to be the one.  You don't count."

"But I can help you.  Let me help you.  I give you some, you give me some, and it's all fair."

"You won't tell me what you want from me." 

"I want you by my side.  Help me fight, help me win, and I can give you anything you want.  Anything you desire I'll give you."

"Help you kill people?"

"That's what the Anbu do.  That's what the Jounin do, what you're paid to do.  It doesn't matter who you're killing or why; it's just your job, it's all professional.  Not personal, there's nothing wrong with it.  I can give you more power than what Orochimaru _ever_ could, and all I'm asking is your allegiance."

"To sleep with you."

"No.  To fight with me.  To fight _for_ me.  I…I was never Hokage, and I never will be, but I still…have that power.  I still want you by my side."

Finally, Sasuke pushed him back a little, looking into his face.  

It was the same face he remembered, the one he had dreamed about and even adored a little bit as a child.  The same shiny blue eyes that looked exactly like the sky looked after the late autumn rains had come, and were brighter than the brown trees but somehow more somber as well.  The hair wild, pointing out in all directions with the same elegance of a palm tree, and the same color of late Sunday afternoon sunshine.  The elfish chin, pointed, and skin a little darker than what he remembered but…

It really was his face.  Naruto hadn't aged at all from what he had last seen him, and it was still his face.  The one he had adored.  The one he still found beautiful.

Naruto waited.

Sasuke gave him his answer.

He meant every word of it.

***

Sasuke pushed his hands hard against the stonewall, against the burning hot chest at his back and hands that never stopped moving, roaming. Delirium. Agitation. He hissed between clenched teeth and tried to jerk away again.

The fox has taken the sky away again, has taken the wind away from him, has taken the ugly orange sunlight.  He doesn't ask for it back, and knows that what he feels and thinks isn't private, so he doesn't think about it.  It's dark and cold again, the air a still tomb.  

//_Stop this_// he whispered quietly, confident that he would be heard and confident that he would be refused.

"No," steamed the word in Sasuke's ear, the shell a little cold and trembling from hunger and dehydration, the warmth teasing him and making him twitch. "Stop fighting," Naruto's voice invited, sweet and thick as honey, and just as sticky. 

Sasuke hissed again, whipping his head down away and biting his lip as he felt warm seductive softness trail over his cheek, searching for his mouth. Naruto's hips seemed to cup perfectly over his back, cushion and protect him, offering him protection, offering him pleasure, offering surcease from the pain and anger racking his mind, the silent grief he still couldn't answer, still couldn't feel.

Golden hardness rubbing slightly at the boundaries of his mind, trying to get in, trying to drug him into an insubstantial fantasy that wasn't true and didn't matter.  Showing him his dreams and nightmares all in one go, with Naruto standing right over his shoulder adding running commentary like his life was just some…cold documentary for him to look at.  Like Sasuke wasn't important.  Like Sasuke didn't matter.

It was like Itachi. It was like Itachi all over again.

Itachi was no longer a person anymore; it was an event, a promise, a goal. It was no longer a person, no longer his brother. It was an event. Synonymous with massacre, with grief, with pain, with tragedy. 

It was Itachi all over again.

Naruto slid around him, against him, warm and powerful and strong and desiring _him_ so much in everything he did, from his chest gently pushing against his back to their hips slowly rocking together, smoldering broad palms running up his chest that always recoiled a little from his touch, from each new movement, even when Naruto had made him whimper unwillingly and shudder by stroking and pinching his nipples hard, to the point of pain and beyond, his mouth sucking and biting hard at Sasuke's neck. 

Sasuke was in pain. Sasuke was in pain and Naruto causing it, and he couldn't get away and couldn't surrender to anything: Not the pain and not the promise. Not the hands stroking his stomach and his sides fondly, never venturing lower but steadily moving down, nails scraping burning red paths while a tongue probed at the tight bunched muscles at the base of his neck.

Memories stole freely through Sasuke's mind, perhaps urged on by Naruto and perhaps not.

//_Fuck it, **get out**!!  Get out!// _

Sasuke gasped and tried to breathe air that wasn't saturated with the fox's smell, with the fox's taste_. _

_//…get out!//_

_ //…get out.//_

A young Greek god; bronzed with vibrant golden hair, yelling and cursing colorfully at him, light blue eyes blazing madly. Another memory, nearly the same but tinted pastel with fondness, of Naruto wet and sputtering madly at him after he'd pushed the Apollo into the lake. Of Naruto napping on the grass near him in the park while they waited for their teammates, too trusting or too tired and stupid to watch Sasuke. That was during Naruto's insomnia attacks preceding both fires on his apartment; nights regularly consisting of tiny pebbles being thrown at Sasuke's window until he returned fire with much deadlier shuriken or took the moron out for the ramen he always craved.  

He would smile at Sasuke openly over a bowl of steaming noodles, crack some new dirty joke he learned from Kakashi-sensei and tease him about when he was going to get a girlfriend.  Once Sasuke had said that Naruto couldn't get himself a date to save his life, and they'd started yelling and throwing salt and pepper paper packages at each other, before trying to stiff the other for the bill.  Sasuke always walked Naruto back to his apartment.  Naruto always talked to him about nearly everything—from girls to training to dreams to his fears.  Sometimes he'd lean against Sasuke; once he'd fallen asleep against him in the restaurant.  He had let him sleep there, and had known exactly why he was doing it.

Images of Naruto, pensive, quiet, looking altogether too----Sasuke fought back hard one last time.

He nearly screamed, settled for keening in his throat with his teeth tight together when the fingers prodding gently into his stomach and making him twitch by investigating his navel suddenly stumbled along his belly to clutch his crotch, already feverishly hot and shamefully hard by the painful stimulus back and forth, and shot back panicking, pressed hot and tight into Naruto's arms and nestled in Naruto's hips, hard probing warmth at his butt cheeks simultaneously revolting and terrifying and exciting him all at once, emotions vying and stampeding for dominance.

::_You do want me.  You do.  You fucker quit fighting; you do.  Give in_.::  

::_Give in_.::

::_Want me_.::

::_Surcease_.::

Sasuke arched, trying to climb the wall and not hit his head on the wall while keeping his mouth out of Naruto's reach unsuccessfully, eyes wide open and unseeing while his clenched fists slapped gently at the wall, a high whimper escaping his throat. 

Humid hot spiciness, slightly bland gentleness invaded and rocked his mouth and fucked his tongue, his eyes sliding closed all by themselves, hands hard and comfortingly warm and slow. A throbbing in his ass, frightening and tempting all at the same time.

//_Oh god.  Oh god.  Oh god.  Oh--//_

::_Yes_::

//_Oh yes…yeah just like…_//

Sasuke could feel the back of his neck being cradled on Naruto's shoulder, could feel startling warm hands holding him, one caressing his stomach in a soothing and seductive movement, making him tremble in a way that didn't hurt so much.  He opened his eyes and saw only the shadowy darkness, shapeless with not a whole lot of tone, and against his will felt very safe.  He could feel Naruto's tongue moving in his mouth gently, fondling him everywhere inside him.  

_//…no_.//

Sasuke Uchiha closed his eyes again in the demon's arms.

Naruto slid away from the kiss smoothly; the tip of his nose trailing along Sasuke's cheekbones and Sasuke didn't dare open his eyes, moving his head slowly away.

"You're keeping something from me," Naruto stated softly, his fingers probing and stroking firmly between his inner thighs, feeling the fragile blushing flesh throb and jump under his fingers.  

Sasuke was trembling like a leaf while his stomach ping-ponged around in his skin, toes curling and body arching a little under protest. He could feel Naruto's heartbeat.  In his ass.  Against his back, right in back of his own heart.  He was blushing so hard—this had to be the most embarrassing thing he had ever done.  And it wasn't even him _doing_ it!

Sasuke slid around in his arms so that he was facing Naruto, sliding down against the wall and through his legs in escape with the uncanny grace and speed so many envied him for. He didn't actually run, just put some space of a few feet between them while pretending to adjust his clothes, ran his fingers through his hair, brushing it out of his face. Tried to adjust his personality, his mind. 

He didn't act like this. Everybody had their breaking points, but Uchiha Sasuke was _not_ one of them. He kept fighting to the end.  He did.  He had to.  His family needed him to, his _name_ needed him to.  He couldn't break.  He could never break.  Never.  He wasn't allowed to.

Dark energy steamed from Naruto as he slowly turned around, turned away from the wall.  He could feel his eyes burning on his back.

"You know, I should have killed you. The only reason I didn't was because it was more entertaining to break you beforehand. But I will kill you," Naruto stated flatly to Sasuke's turned and gently trembling back.

//_Like you killed them? Go ahead. Finish it._//

From helpless to Uchiha arrogance in 3.6 seconds. Give the man a fucking medal.  Icy cold detachment, same old pride. Same old Sasuke.  But weaker now; you could hear it in his voice, see it in his diffident stance.  

//_Eat me…burn me.  Eating them—now that is inhuman.  You aren't human.  You aren't him.  Demon.  Traitor._//

//_What did it feel like killing them? You're always saying you want me to know, but then you never tell me._//

Naruto gave this due thought. 

"So you want to know now?"

Sasuke shrugged.

//_Sure. Whatever. You're probably right in saying that you'll kill me_// Naruto's eyebrows shot up.  Sasuke was admitting vulnerability, inevitability?  Goodness…  //_But I doubt you will. I know you won't break me_// he ended confidently, quietly; for once empty of all bravado.  He said it in his head.  He couldn't lie in his head, in his own mind.  He knew when he was doing it so Naruto always knew too.

It was a simple fact he knew. Naruto might very well kill him; he had changed enough to do so. But casual cruelty wasn't something that Sasuke was explicitly sensitive to, and he would never surrender to a demon.  A monster. Not to any traitor.  Not ever, not that way.

Naruto probed Sasuke's mind curiously, ruthlessly, and came up blank. There was no reasoning; there were barely emotions. He was too exhausted to have cohesive clear thought, clear enough that Naruto could pick up on. 

"What do you want to know? What is it you want to hear? That I enjoyed it? That I liked killing them?"

Sasuke didn't move. He had enough trouble concentrating on not falling off his feet.

"Yeah. Yeah I guess I did.  They were my Itachi. They were my problem. They were always my destiny…but the requirements changed. I wanted them to acknowledge me, but there was only one way to do it."

Sasuke's shoulders twitched. He had laughed.

"Only one way I felt like doing it, anyway," Naruto amended coldly.  "Just 'cause I don't have some drama old _House_ on my name with dentures fifteen generations old like you and the Hyuuga doesn't mean I ain't got my pride, my dignity.  I did what I wanted.  Which is more than most people can say, you included."

Sasuke didn't rise to it.  Naruto was sure he had heard it.

"Why do you suddenly care?"

//_You know…what your problem is?_//  Sasuke trailed off, sinking lower and clutching his stomach in detached pain, his mind still running on greased wheels.  //_You **care** too much…you dummy…they weren't important.  They were **never** important.  You were important, and you _**let**_ them do this to you…this monster…you **idiot**._//

Naruto had always been loud (to attract attention) and obnoxious (to show he didn't care about what anybody said, because he was strong).  He had always envied Sasuke in a personal way that the darker boy really didn't deserve.  Unlike Naruto, Sasuke really _didn't_ care what people thought about him, what they said.  As long as he could fight for his goal, his life objective, he didn't really care what they said or did (either worshipping him or calling him traitor) because he knew where he stood in life (chasing his brother).  And Naruto, for all his dreams of becoming Hokage, had no idea where he stood, because he barely understood what he was, where he stood with himself.  He didn't know; he didn't have that certainty.  Sasuke did, and Naruto hated him for it.

They told him he was a monster, and he believed them, because he didn't know what he really was inside.  Iruka-sensei had said that he wasn't, but Iruka-sensei always saw a mini-mirror of himself in Naruto, so it was hard to know if he was talking about Naruto or himself.  Sasuke had always known that Naruto was weak inside—he had always taken care of him, out for ramen and out of trouble when he could.  He still saw Naruto as weak.  Naruto saw himself as the strongest freaking creature to walk the living earth since the dark ages.

The Sharingan saw past illusions.

The fire burned in his skin, in his mouth and Naruto had to hold himself back.  Hard.  His teeth gritted and his eyes turned a furious dark red.  His voice growled animal-like.  "I was.  I was before they did anything I was before—"

//_You were afraid to fight.  For yourself.  You always were, you never really thought you were good enough, just 'cause of what they said.  All you were ever good at was rebelling…and look where that's brought you.  Alone._//  

Sasuke twitched gently like a leaf in the wind.  

//_Has it ever…occurred to you.  That I don't owe you.  Anything.//_

Naruto lifted an eyebrow carefully.  Sasuke was adjusting altogether too quickly for his tastes.  Damn.  He didn't answer.

//_I didn't ask you to save me.  I didn't ask your permission to live.  I don't really care about you.  I didn't ask you to leave.  I didn't want you to leave.  Honestly…you're such a child sometimes…//_

Sasuke was slowly falling to his knees.  Well, falling slowly so to speak, because Sasuke was a tall person.  First he crumpled slightly at the ankles, then at the knees, and then his pelvis gradually allowed him to go down a little until he was resting slightly sitting on his heels.  Naruto doubted he had realized it; realized that he was nearly on his knees in front of him.  Sasuke had too much pride to do that in front of him, even now. 

_//I didn't…it doesn't matter anymore.  You left.  You died out there.  You're not him.  He was a nice guy.//_

"Shut up."

//_Nothing matters…dead…//_

_//…I don't die here.  Not by…hand.  Another.  I kill him…or I die by his...  I have to kill him.  I have to kill him.  That's all that matters.  It doesn't change.  I never should have trusted…//_

//_A pain in the ass, but he was more decent than I'll ever be, you know?//_

Naruto shifted.

"I said shut up," Naruto slapped down coldly as he marched silently over to Sasuke, fully intent on finishing what he had started.  The hell with humiliation.  Death was so much easier.  Quality was for other people, he'd take time.  Quantity was what really mattered.  His fingers gripped Sasuke's hair while his other hand grew a little longer, a little stronger, and got ready to swipe…

//_He made me laugh, sometimes…//_

Naruto's eyes widened.

//…_I never did it…while he was looking but…he never could lie.  To anyone.  Even me.  He was like that…Decent.  Stupid.  Lost…nice…//_

Naruto struck hard.

***

Aziraphale. The Enemy, of course. But an enemy for six thousand years now, which made him sort of a friend.   
-- Crowley the demon on Aziraphale the angel, _Good Omens_, Terry Pratchett & Neil Gaiman

This isn't about _love_ as in _caring_. This is about _property_ as in _ownership_.

-- _Fight Club_, Chuck Palahniuk

***

It had always been like for so long. On opposite sides of the spectrum, yet always thrown together. They provided balance for each other, and whether they liked it or not, whether they liked _each other_ or not, they did work well together. Flawless. They were two sides of the coin, yin and yang, and together…

…together they were whole. 

They were nearly the same person, so alike--too alike to be different. Too different to be alike.

_Why do you want to take that stolen thing?_

Being around Sasuke was like being back home again, being back in his old classroom that smelled of pencil shavings and human sweat and the very, very faint tint of sandalwood that scented the jutsu smoke. It was feeling the grass slide out beneath his feet, cushion and cradle him, while shuriken and kunai came flying at him and he retaliated back, a familiar old passionate rivalry. It was ramen late at night watching old horror flicks attached to Iruka-sensei's side, scarfing down cereal in the morning while Kakashi-sensei tried to get him to eat vegetables. 

He wanted to touch him. He wanted to touch him so badly it felt like his arms were trembling. 

His arms weren't trembling. His arms were still. He was in control.

Sasuke was lying just a foot away on the floor, his body cold, dark hair draped over his eyes shut closed.  His lips were blue, face still.

Naruto sat against the wall, arms wrapped around himself and legs pulled up slightly.

Cold, austere, agonizingly distant with his dark cool elegance--seductively close with his vicious cruel instinct, pragmatism. If for a slight change in his blood, the circumstances in his birth…Sasuke would have made a beautiful demon. People would have lined up at his feet, worshipped him, and then begged him to kill them, to eat them as the old gods had so that they might become part of what he was. So that they might feel his touch, even if it was fleeting and lethal. 

Naruto's chest constricted tight, hurting his organs. The angle just below his eyes was agitated, warm, and the insides of his thighs were blushing. The skin under his chin felt too sensitive. He clenched his hands together, wanting the nails to dig into his skin so the blood would come--_wanted_ the pain--so he would stop looking at Sasuke. Sasuke helpless and vulnerable so very damn close to him. Stop looking at what he couldn't have. He always chased after the impossible…

Did Sasuke have any idea what he did to him? Did he even _care_?

…Probably not. He still…

After all that. 

After all that and Sasuke still wouldn't look at him like he wanted him to. He still wasn't afraid of him. He wouldn't admit how they fit into each other's lives, how they just _worked_ together, whether they were helping each other out or at each other's throats, they just _fit_ together. 

Sasuke's face like porcelain and ivory, so cold and emotionless, dead. Even his eyes looked dead sometimes. Sasuke by himself, without his clothes, was completely without color, a stark black and white contrast. No shades of gray, no bending, no color, no life. 

Just the line. 

Did he have any _idea_ what he did to him?

Naruto hated him. Sasuke was perfection. 

Not the tip, not the bottom, he just _was_ perfection. Naruto was not perfection. Naruto was the exact _opposite_ of perfection. Sasuke was an angel. Naruto was a demon. Sasuke was aristocracy. Naruto was gutter trash. 

Naruto had fought Sasuke all his life, even before he had met Sasuke. Naruto had fought him the faces of the other children, the ones that knew they belonged. He had fought him in the faces of the adults who looked down at him, secure and _not_ alone and high up in the social ladder…

He had fought the idea of Sasuke all his life. His image. Even before they had met, Naruto had known Sasuke. Hated Sasuke. Envied Sasuke. Wanted Sasuke.

And Sasuke…

…Sasuke didn't care a thing about Naruto. 

Naruto didn't hold a place in Sasuke's life. He was just 'that _guy_', that kid that was on his team too and helped out sometimes, but was still just a regular dobe and jerk and not too big a deal, just a loudmouth, nothing really to worry about. Not such a very vital part of his life. The only vitals in Sasuke's life were Strength and Itachi. Not that Dead Last Naruto, hyperactive brain-dead ninja. 

He was still that idiot. Still. 

Even after his display of skill, his superiority, and his viciousness. Still that idiot Naruto always had been in Sasuke's eyes, except now he had better skill, more muscle, and a sharper edge. Guess that made Naruto a type of bully now, in Sasuke's eyes.

Sasuke had chased after power all his life to kill Itachi, to follow through with the only constant in his life that he knew. Anger. Anger and loss. Everything that went wrong with his life--everything that went wrong with the _world_ all stemmed from Itachi. 

It wasn't even a matter of real anger anymore. It was a matter of habit, a matter of ritual. Sasuke had said he would do it, and pride--foolish, foolish pride--would hold him to it. It was completely possible he didn't even _want_ Itachi dead anymore, didn't care too much anymore. Itachi was his only family, even if he was insane and a murderer; family was family.  Not that Naruto would really understand anything about that, the only family he knew about had sacrificed him coming _and_ going; to the fox and his people. 

Sasuke would still chase after him. It was a thing he did. 

Some 18 something years in this world, and Itachi had fully occupied Sasuke's life for 13 years in it. The first 5 years it had been out of love, out of admiration to his super-cool older brother.  Now it was hate.  For 13, 12 years, Itachi had been Sasuke's sun and moon, the sky above his head, his reason for getting out of bed in the morning. Not to continue life, but to end it. 

After Itachi was dead, by Sasuke's hand or another's, what would Sasuke do? What could he do? He wouldn't have a reason to get out of bed in the morning anymore. He wouldn't have a reason to live anymore.

When Itachi died, so did Sasuke.

So did Sasuke.

Sasuke.

Masoned cold stone, worn flat and smooth through time and tear and wear, a thousand feet of a thousand invaders and killers had walked and run and died in these stone corridors. Had died without sunlight, without the blue sky over their head, with only the darkness and the cold flat stone under their dying bodies. The stone was cold under Naruto's posterior, under his palms, seeping through them and stealing the heat and energy from him. 

Sasuke was so cold.

_Make a deal with the devil. Make a deal with death. Give me what I want, and I'll give you anything. Everything. Just give me what I want. Take it all. Give me what I want._

_Why do you want to take that stolen thing?_

Naruto had power. Sasuke wanted power. Sasuke wanted nothing to do with Naruto. He wouldn't even hate him anymore. He refused the see the binds that held them together, that drew them together no matter how much they despised each other--as rivals and opposites, fellow jerks and orphans locked in an immortal dance. 

Whether it was a dance at night chasing each other with teeth or knives or dancing in the bed in sweat and lust, it was still there. The dance went on, though the floor and music and dress changed, the dance went on and they would _always_ be partners locked in it. And now Sasuke wouldn't do it anymore. Sasuke quit. Just like that. Like it didn't matter.

Like Naruto didn't matter. 

He hated Sasuke. And now that he had the power, now that he could break him, feel his spirit shatter, watch that untouchable ivory mask splinter and explode, watch the fragments of that core that he hated so _deeply_, since he was young and a child and couldn't even tie his shoes--because he wanted it and couldn't have it…

Naruto couldn't hurt him. He couldn't hurt Sasuke. He couldn't let anybody else hurt him either.

He wanted to, had wanted to for a long while now. It was Sasuke's fault. It was always Sasuke's fault. He had _meant_ to hurt him, had _dreamed_ of hurting him, but now he couldn't. Couldn't even hold the knife close to him without his hand shaking within his control. 

Sasuke was lying there cold on the ground, right where Naruto could touch him and kiss him and run his fingers through his hair and stick his tongue in his mouth, tasting the dark sweet tangy zest of Sasuke…could shove his hand through his chest, crash slushy through his ribcage, could carve up his face, damage that beautiful perfection just to see it fall, just so everyone would _know_ what Sasuke was, what he had been through and what he was to Naruto, that he was weaker than Naruto, that he was claimed…

Damn. 

…No. Naruto had lied. Naruto could hurt Sasuke. Naruto could, because even though his hand trembled, even though he cringed in the back of his eyes, even though his stomach attached itself to his spine, Naruto could still control himself enough to hurt Sasuke.

Looking to his side, Naruto took a knife out his red duster. Even though he wasn't shinobi anymore, he still preferred the stone kunai to metal knives. Stone didn't catch the light as much, was heavier so it could be thrown farther, even if it was harder to sharpen, wasn't as convenient to carry around. 

Naruto leaned forward and moved to his knees, crouched over Sasuke's still form lying on his stomach, completely unaware. Completely innocent and nearly pure; tainted, but with that silver crystalline light still glimmering in his soul. The perfect hero. The perfect lamb. 

Demon Slayer. Demon Hunter.

Demon King.

Naruto wanted to touch him. He could smell him stronger now, feel the heat that was just so slightly leaking in a comfortable, alluring way across the dead-cold stone, across the gray and dark. The lifeblood of Sasuke, his body-heat, unconsciously reaching out for Naruto. The smell of his sweat, salty and a little like peanuts, almonds, sour and slightly rank. Naruto hadn't let him shower in god knew how long. It was easier to smell him this way, easier to find him. He liked Sasuke's smell.

His fingers did not tremble; he did not let them.

The tip of the knife cut along the skin right of his eye, traced down along his cheek, the blood welling up and serenely spilling over the side down the slide of his nose, over it. It nearly looked like Sasuke was crying tears of blood.

Red on white. Violence and purity. 

Naruto lifted the knife, scrutinizing his handiwork, admiring the affect. Sasuke was beautiful. It would take a lot of work to tear that beauty away. Tainting it only made it more striking, tender by contrast. A coppery giddy smell slid into his nose, made him feel alive, vital and turbulent. 

He twisted the knife around in his hand, so that the blood coated its surface, so that not a drop of Sasuke's blood was wasted on the cold stone. He waited a while, so that the blood would dry on the blade. He could smell it so strong. He wanted to touch Sasuke's face, wipe away the blood tears that fell unheeded down his face and taste Sasuke's blood on his fingers, on his tongue. Wanted to lick Sasuke's cheek, taste the crimson violent life that thrummed in his face against the cold purity of his salty skin. God he wanted to taste him…

…No. Wait for it. There'll be time. Do it…do it when he's awake. It'll mean something more to him; he'll really feel it, if he's awake. 

He wondered idly if he should start down his throat, maybe along his chest…

_Naruto couldn't hurt him. Couldn't even hold the knife close to him without his hand shaking within his control. _

_I won't hurt you. I swear it. By my name, I won't hurt you._

_…No. He had lied. _

Naruto free hand touched Sasuke's shoulder to push him onto his back, so he could draw faces on his chest--smiley faces actually. So everyone would know whom Sasuke belonged to. Smiley faces for the demon fox, the murderer of children, who burned his cage and keeper to the ground, scattering the ashes on the wind so they could never be picked up again. The demon fox who had destroyed three societies, three cultures, three homes for all the happy ninjas. Three lives and more.  Three and three and three.

Naruto waited for Sasuke to fall on his back. 

He waited.

…His hands weren't trembling.

Naruto sat back and covered his eyes with his free hand. There were no words for how he felt. He clenched the handle to the knife deeper. __

Naruto had spit on Sasuke. Naruto had yelled at him, sworn at him, talked to him, whispered secrets and lies into his ear. Naruto had beat him up and put him back together, bled him, drank him and fed him his own blood. Naruto had pressed him, held him, licked him, kissed him and touched him. Naruto had burned the last home he had, had scattered and killed any friends and adopted family he may have had, the same as Itachi had done. Naruto had done everything he knew, everything he could think of. 

And.

Sasuke didn't belong to him anymore than he ever had. Sasuke didn't belong to him at all.

It didn't matter what he did. It just didn't matter. Sasuke still…

…far away as the moon. Far away as the stars. Far away as the grace of Heaven, and just as…

Untouchable. 

No one's. Never his. Not a demon's.

He didn't deserve Sasuke. 

He couldn't have Sasuke.

***

//_He lied to me!  He LIED--_//

//_No, he didn't.  He never said a word.  He never promised **any**thing.  He never said **any**thing._//

_//…He lied to me.  To me!  He never meant it.  He just wanted…He did **that**…//_

//_It doesn't mean anything to him.  He never said it did.  He kissed me, made — had sex with me.  He got what he wanted; a willing body in bed, something that heals on it's own whenever he cuts it.  When he bites it, it heals back up without a scar.  Without a mark.  No proof, no trace.// _

_// Something that bites back.  Something with the same _taste_._//

_//…no trace.  No trace at _all_…//_

_//Doesn't count, does it?  Without a trace, it doesn't count at all.  It wasn't real.  What he does to me…it isn't real.  Not for him.  He **wanted**--// _

_//He never promised **ANY**thing!!  He never meant a word!//_

_//…He never said a word, stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid._//

_//…just another tool.  Another animal of Hell.  He was…_//

//_No.  He's the same as me.  He just doesn't accept it; not yet.  He wants the impossible.  He doesn't want what he's supposed to have, what he can get.  He wants what he can't have, what he shouldn't have.  He's an idiot, you know that._//

//_We never should have trusted him._//

//_No.  But we did.  I have._//

_//…So.  What happens now…?_//

Gaara opened his eyes.  He had waited.  He had observed.  

He was severely disappointed.

***

*_"Why do you want to take that stolen thing?" Is a song lyric by Sting.  Not sure which album._

A/N:  I _love_ Gaara… He's me.  He's anyone.  Scared, empty, and searching for more and getting frustrated and scared when he can't find what he needs; because maybe it doesn't exist at all.  So he'd be searching his whole life without ever finding it.  He's an absolutely insane, and not very good at being crazy either.  *Squish!  Squishy!*  I'm gonna try and showcase him more.  I shall take care of my fave, no worries.

Sasuke is _So Very Complicated_ on his own that I don't think I can really get his feelings about his brother down on paper.  I've gone to shrines and asked people and read stuff, but the truth is that nobody really _knows_ what goes on in Sasuke's mind *hits head on keyboard*  I might try to write it later; for now I'm accepting my limitations and looking for answers.

 It's depressing but it's gonna get better!  Next chapter!  …my favorite little red head's gonna help me out with that ;D 

I **love** my LotR CD!  Eeek!  Purrr…it's so _pretty_  ^__--  Legolas-san!  Pippin-san!  Yee!  


	10. I: The Blind Guy

A/N: I've been getting _gorgeous_ reviews, and I just wanted to say thank you for them.  They're long, they're detailed, and there's _criticism_!  Yay!

…I'm worried Gaara's becoming OCC.  Eek.  Argh.  I now dislike Gaara.  He's hard to do.  I hope I made him seem crazy enough *_*

***

Attraction 

By gelfling

gelfling8604@yahoo.com

//_Thoughts//_

_::Invading thoughts_::

***

Have you been speed-reading my self-help books again?

--Dilbert, _Dilbert_, Scott Adams

You fuckin' cows!!  Crackers!  Crackers!  But no squeezy cheese!!  You've broken my secret elbow!!

--Happy Noodle Boy, _Johnny The Homicidal Maniac: Director's Cut_, Jhohen Vasquez

Let them hate, so long as they fear  
--Accius

  
_I believe in people falling   
I believe in people warring   
I believe diseases coming   
I believe that's why I'm running_

--Possibly (?) _Queen of the Damned_ Soundtrack 

You bring bad things!  Bad things come in neither human nor animal!

_--_Apes_, Princess Mononoke_

***

//…//

_//…and _this_ is it.//_

_//Indeed.  He's changed him.  Done—something to him.  He's different.  He's not as strong as he used to be, but he's also…//_

_//…Not quite as human.//_

_//No.  Strange.  What did he _do_ to him?  This is unheard of.  It's almost what our father did to us, only to a—stranger degree.  And different.//_

_//It's _nothing_ like that!  My father was a monster.  He got what he deserved, but he should have gotten worse.  …the real thing is…_Why_ did he do it?  I thought he…//_

_//…//_

_//…what the hell did they _do_ to each other?  …He looks nearly as fucked up as I am.//_

_//Hm.  Yes.  He kind of does.  Strange.  Interesting.  So this is what happens when the fox goes truly mad.//_

_//He melded with his daemon completely.  I can't even sense her in him anymore; she's gone.  She was avenged, apparently that's all she was sticking around for.  It was only natural, inevitable.  We aren't supposed to be this way.  We aren't supposed to be at all.//_

_//Hn.  Really?//_

_***_

Sasuke made a point of his breath not catching.

He had been staring for hours now at the same shadowed spot, letting his thoughts drift and come together and attempting to shield his mind at the same time. And yet something must've _shifted_ in his vision, something added or taken away or defined, because now he saw a pair of feet that led up to legs instead of dark shadowed stone. 

And he felt eyes on him.

How long his watcher had been there he couldn't say; he'd been keeping watch for hours without profit, and hadn't heard a single thing except his own breathing and heartbeat.  He'd been left alone for what seemed forever now, seemingly forgotten. And now feet.

He waited to be realized, waited for confrontation, for the other guy to make the first move. It was too quiet for the fox…but anyone else wouldn't touch him. And he would have heard them. Should've detected something, felt something early. He couldn't even feel chakra. When nothing came, he continued to wait. 

Sasuke's cell was small; he couldn't stand up or lay across it without his feet sticking through the bars. The hallway was very wide however, so even if arms reached out from either side there'd still be room in the middle for about two people to stand out of reach. And plenty of safe distance to prod and needle at the prisoners. 

All cells seemed empty save his. There was no sound, no whispers or shuffling of limbs or breathing. There wasn't even water dripping. He couldn't sense anything, except rare flashes here and there of what must've been the fox's chakra. It was a silence, stillness, so deafeningly loud that it blew out the eardrums. It seized the mind and throttled it until you couldn't think anymore. It was the silence madness is born in.

Sasuke wondered if the fox, in all his stupidity and genius, realized this. He had said that life in the village had been hell, had been a dark void. Sasuke wondered if this is what it felt like to him. He was very sure, that if the sensations were the same, he avidly didn't care.  Naruto deserved everything and anything bad that had ever happened to him.  He was more than a monster, worse than one.

For once, Sasuke yielded, and looked him in the face. He didn't even feel fear.

There was a good reason why he was an only prisoner. It was easier to keep track of dead bodies than living ones, and there are always some people who tend to be very practical.  At the fox's caliber, but not the same.

The relationship was bitter and bloody, spiraling from the promise of hatred--which is still a form of attraction--to a bond of loathing, which isn't. 

Gaara leaned up and walked over like it was only Tuesday and nothing special, like Sasuke defenseless and trapped was nothing of any _real_ interest, his eyes never leaving Sasuke's. He crouched down so close it was nearly an invitation to attack, but Sasuke knew while Naruto would bluff, Gaara would accept readily.

Déjà vu.

It was a matter of pride and control that neither would speak before the other, so it was silent a long while. Gaara had improved from the last Sasuke had seen, his skin whole and pale again, the circles around his eyes reduced to thin, dark lines, and his eyes a sharper green than before. He seemed to radiate strength.

Sasuke's skin was still pale, but gaunt and bruised, wearing less clothing than he would have liked with an old blanket pulled around his shoulders, and his hair was an artful disarray. And this time he was on the "bad" side of the bars. 

He didn't flinch when he felt grains of sand push his chin up and aside, pulled his shirt away so Gaara could get a good look at his throat, or when it pulled his hands out in front of him. He had nothing to fight with; no energy, and Gaara didn't know mercy. Besides, if the Sand shinobi wanted to kill him, there wasn't a thing he could about it, and he had nowhere to run. 

His only weapon was apathy, seeming too boring and weak to be of any interest. It was demeaning, but it was true. They both had to know it. He wanted to fight.  But he needed to live through this, he couldn't die yet.  He wasn't done yet.  He couldn't die yet.  

But if Gaara was angry about last time…

The sand slid away. Gaara, wordlessly, reached in and put forward a leather pouch. Sasuke waited. Gaara didn't move. Taking his eyes off him in a symbol of weakness, he took the pouch, and felt hardness and the metal clink inside. Gaara stood up, and glanced at the lock. There was sharp whirring sound, a crunch, and Sasuke stood up as the door opened. Gaara moved back before Sasuke walked out, and finally spoke.

"Is this a game?"

Gaara looked at him funny.

"No," he answered, and turned and started walking, his footsteps loud in the hallway. Sasuke followed when he stopped, and was led to the mountains to a tunnel that led out to the bottom of a gully. Gray sky was above him, and the wind caressed his hair.

Gaara turned around to go back inside. 

"Why?"

Gaara looked at him over his shoulder, face impassive.

"Get lost."

***

It seems reasonable to note at this point that Gaara is always playing with half a deck.  

Half of the cards belong to him, and the other half belong to something else.  These two decks usually don't work together, because they really don't like each other.  The demon badger resents the human for breathing; the human resents the demon for being.  

The big problem for Gaara is that it's difficult to tell which thoughts belong to him, and which thoughts belong to the demon.  Gaara has never had a seal on his demon.  He's only been alone in his head a numbered amount of times, and energy and thoughts flow without solid restraint or limits between them.  If they were to work in unison, as Naruto and the Kyuubi were able, Gaara could possibly be stronger than Naruto, because there are spells and attacks that the demon knows that Gaara has never learned, that he cannot imagine.

But they don't work in unison.  They don't like each other.  They're stuck together.  

Unlike the Kyuubi, the Tanuki demon does _not_ need Gaara to survive, he doesn't need Gaara for _anything_, and if Gaara were to spontaneously die he'd be a very happy and very free demon the way he was _before_ that damned bastard shoved him in this mucus and shit rotten prison of a child.  Gaara hates his demon more than he's ever hated anything in his life, even the loneliness.  He can't imagine life without him.

Gaara's always been a little crazy.  

He just can't tell if it's his insanity or something else'.  

***

"I'm leaving."

"What? What are you talking about--we won, Gaara. We can't leave…" 

Glance.

"Why should we leave? We've got nothing to fear. We _won_."

"Exactly. Everyone knows it…it's worse now than it was before."

"…I don't follow you. Winning is a _good_ thing."

"No. It's not.  I know. The people you didn't kill stupid," he said with some feeling, "want you dead more than they want to live. The spectators want the same. You're a target now—you won--and every bastard and leech has their eyes on you. You can't screen all _that_ deep."

"You don't know that.  You don't understand my power, you know," Naruto had lent backwards, his eyes cool and distant.  "Nothing can hurt me, not anymore."

Gaara snorted a sound that translated roughly to "Idiot" in every sense of the word.  He explained on his point further in a few short sentences, expanded below to make sense.

"I do. The winning team always squabbles over who gets to keep the trophy and stab each other in the back for it, but the losers band together tight as rock, and go after the winner's head, picking them off one by one. You're a target now. And it's hell fighting cowards; they don't fight fair. Besides, what do you want with their land? Money? Fame? You have it, but is that what you wanted?  …Isn't that why Sasuke's here? To give you what you really want? Except he isn't, is he? He's not cooperating. You satisfied your bloodlust, you did what you set out to do. But you didn't get what you wanted. It's not that simple, and you don't have anything I want anymore" is what Gaara said in so many words.

What he actually said was: "You won. Everybody's out to kill you now. Hope you have fun with your fuck toy, but I'm out. See you in hell."

And he left Naruto gaping at his back. 

"You're leaving just like _that_?!"

Gaara left.

 It was going to be one of those days.  

It was.

***

Naruto sighed in his throat as he closed his eyes and just let his mind…wander.  

It was said wizards could speak to the walls, but then so could the homeless, so that was never a big deal.  It's not like the walls ever said anything _back_.  It was said witches could hear the shadows speak, but that didn't mean the shadows had anything sensible to say.  It just meant that the witch listened to weird things, maybe because she didn't have anything else better to listen to.

Naruto was at the moment listening to the hallways speaking while having a quiet smoke.  He would rather be listening to his CD player and have some guitars blasting his eardrums, but the hallways were saying some interesting things.

_//…what he'll do if…//_

_//…isss **gone**, he can't do…not coming back…//_

_//…dangerous.  You don't know it'll happen he might…//_

_//…damned jackal would've…for that…//_

_//…all of usss!  Together!  He'ss human, he let'ss the humans…//_

_//…Damned pets.  Not even a real demon just…//_

_//…insulting our species as…would you simply…//_

_//…You know what…if we…can!//_

_//…the shinobi wiped…the same with us…//_

_//…demon superiority…human child…you would allow this state of affairs to continue?//_

_//…We don't **know** anything…we just…//_

_//…human.  Human child ruling…two hundred years I would sacrifice…//_

_//…casual freak…Isn't…nothing like us…damned human child…//_

_//…the real fox…//_

_//…the real fox…//_

_//…the real demon would…//_

_//…killed them all…//_

_//…weak…//_

_//…weak…//_

Naruto exhaled the smoke through his nose.

_//…abomination_.//

"Hm," was all he said out loud, making a slight face but nothing more than that.  "Good old Johnny…" he said to no one in particular save himself.  

None—save perhaps Gaara and maybe now Sasuke, and neither were known for gossiping or even _speaking_—knew the full extent of Naruto's powers.  They saw the results.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.  For the last five odd years, he had been an aggressive but ambiguous employer, comradely, but very, _very_ ambitious.  And so far that little bit of reassurance that they were getting paid well had been enough to grease their minds, because no one had ever really known what it was he could really do.

He had done that with today in mind. 

***

Naruto leaned heavily on his elbow, nearly falling across the table.  //_Damn that Gaara_,// was all he could think.  He had found out what his little desert badger had done and he had a good idea why.  He hadn't _killed_ anybody, which was a first, but it was still damn annoying.  And the pretty young lady across from him naked in bed _knew_ that was all he could think.  Admirably, she wasn't afraid.  

//_But she **is** Gaara's sister, after all…Wouldn't be afraid of me after living with him…_//

And Naruto had to smile.

"Hey.  Did I wake you up?"  

Temari pulled her nightgown over her head, tugging it on hard while she sat up in bed, pulling the sheets up to her waist.  

"Yes, lord, you did."

Naruto waved a hand dismissively.  "Don't call me that here, damn it.  We've known each other…what?  Three years?  More?"

Temari began to be slightly alarmed.  Gaara had 'visited' her before he had vanished completely.  Literally; he had just shown up out of nowhere, unperturbed when she had startled, and stared at her from about a foot away.  His eyes had never been like anyone else in their family, even right down to his hair he looked like he didn't quite fit, but there was a touch of green-yellow in them that came from a blood that wasn't human at all.

He had touched her cheek, very, very lightly.  Then he had left.  She wasn't sure _why_ he left.  She wasn't even sure why he had bothered to see her.  They hardly saw each other on a daily basis.  But now Naruto was here.  They didn't see each other on a daily basis either.  And rumor was that he and Naruto were pretty close…

Naruto's gaze gave nothing away.  Like always, he jumped straight into the conversation.

"And even though we've never really talked I…I _have_ grown pretty reliant on you.  And Kankuro of course, but you more anyone…more than any of the normal humans I have here."  Naruto smiled grimly at the little phrase.  //_Normal humans indeed_.//  "More than most of the beings actually.  And, as a result, I've become kind of attached to you."

//_…attached?_// was all Temari thought with growing dread.  With some difficulty, the alarming feeling shifted to creeping panic.  

"I'd really hate for something bad to happen to you, at least while I'm here still running around and stuff.  _So_…" Naruto trailed off, leaning back and stretching one arm over his head.  Temari gripped the bed sheets like a chastity belt.  

"…In about, oh, say three hours?  I'm going…No, I want _you_…and your brother and all the lower-class personnel in the northern wing of the castle, and if at all possible…No.  No I just want you in that section."  Naruto was still gazing off at nothing, his mouth moving without really paying attention to her.  

"And, uh…try to keep it quiet, will you?  Kay?"

Finally, pale absent blue slivers looked at her face, stiff with confusion and mild apprehension.  "Did you know…that you have one _really_ freaky brother?"

***

Two hours and fifteen minutes later.

There was, instead of the general shuffling and noises that people who didn't like each other very much were all crowded into the same room with a… _thing_ that they didn't trust, a dead silence.  A general _lurking_-ness.  

"I'm here to discuss equilibrium," Naruto began rudely.  "Because that's something that's been changing.  Unbalanced.  And now it needs to be… _rebalanced_.  

***

Demons didn't belong in this world anymore. They weren't meant to be powerful, weren't meant to be as strong as they were now. They were screwing it up, right down to how people were thinking lately to how the winds shifted. Darkness walked the land again, and people were subtly afraid without knowing why. They were changing things. 

They were never meant to be predators.

Everything has a fail-safe. There had to be balance, had to be balance. Without it everything was screwed. Everything had its opposite. Except them. There wasn't anything to hurt them anymore, not even the iron anymore. 

Demon slayers had stopped being.

***

"For as long as we've existed, we have been hunted by the shinobi, trained demon slayers and of course the odd angry mob.  And because of them, for a long time, we've hidden in the shadows."

There were a few slight invisible grins.  Barely there, hardly noticeable, but the general sentiment still came across.  They didn't have to hide in the shadows anymore.

"Well, I'm sure I don't need to explain what the destruction of Leaf meant.  We have the complete western division of the terrain: from the Sand to the Stone and recently the Leaf, with the Grass and Lightning countries soon to follow.  The humans have no longer have any real defense against us, against _any_ of us.  They're weak.  They're fragile.  And they are long _past_ their dues."

There was a smug satisfied silence.  If this had been an open rally, somebody would have yelled by now.

Naruto nodded to himself, and, so very quietly that no one heard it or even sensed the energy, the giant metal hinges in the stone doors began to melt gently against the stone, sealing the cracks.

"Now, equilibrium…_demands_ that things balance," Naruto stated pointedly.  "Not so long ago we _put_ things into balance, we _made_ ourselves equal.  And that was good.  But now things are again _out_ of balance, and they're out of balance against humanity's favor."

Naruto's head tilted down, his bangs shielding his face.  He was wearing an old cotton black shirt and stonewashed denim pants.  He was vulnerable; not wearing his red jacket.  

There was a tense silence.

He had placed no restraint on where they could go and how much they could do, and they exploited that ruthlessly.  They could become kings of their own small country if they wanted to, with human slaves and _nothing_ could rise up against them.  Against the little demons, yes, but not against the old ones like themselves.  They had a freedom they hadn't had in ages, and they were taking full advantage of it.  They had _power_ now; power that they had dreamed and hungered for and they weren't about to let it get away from them.  _Nothing_ was going to take it from them.  They'd die first.

It was no small secret that his latest pet had run away.  That had provided some amusement.  It was a welcome relief and tempting opportunity that the sand demon had also left.  

Naruto was alone.

And they--and he--knew it.

So what would he do now?

Sighing wearily, Naruto steepled his fingers and stared at nothing over them, his mind far away.  He opened his mouth, closed it slightly, and then opened it again.  His voice had lost its happy strident tone and was…daresay _morosely_ thoughtful.

"I'll ah, I'll tell you guys the truth though, about something…" Naruto trailed off.  "I knew this would happen eventually, but I kinda hoped that it wouldn't happen this quickly.  Or so soon."

Did he know?  Inhuman eyes refused to meet across the table, but all minds were thinking roughly the same thing.  //_He couldn't know…_everything_ just yet…_//

"I really appreciated everything that's happened.  _I've_ enjoyed it all, I know.  But, as you've all noticed, I am somewhat human.  Kinda.  I didn't think this would be a problem."

//_But that damn slayer just **had**…_//  Naruto shook himself to dislodge the thought.

"But it is.  Nothing good lasts forever, so…" Naruto looked up and smiled sadly before lowering his eyes again.  "What is in my control, I am ending.  What is not in my control…"

Three seconds.  That's all they would need, Naruto knew.  Against each other they could fight for centuries.  But they would _all_ fight against him together, and that would only take three seconds tops before one of them got the killing strike in.  He knew what sort of monsters he was dealing with.  He had gathered them himself.

Three seconds.  Just three.

Naruto grinned madly.

"…What is not in my control, I end _now_."

Naruto clapped his hands together smartly.

"So let's start!"

***

Temari was mildly irritated with the way Kankuro was fidgeting.  He wouldn't stop taking out his watch, and felt it was his self-appointed duty to give her the time of day every 15 minutes.  They had been there for a while, she knew.  There was a restless susurrus in the air, but nobody yet out of line.

//_…'You have one freaky brother.'  Which one did he mean?  They're *both* freaky…just in very different ways._//

It did feel strange, nearly ridiculous when one thought about it.  From the way Naruto had spoken, it sounded as if some calamity was about to take place.  But she—and the others—had been listening carefully; feeling the rock and air for disturbances, and those who could sense energy said they couldn't feel anything major.

::_Temari_::

She gave a start, and tried to formalize her mind.  

//_Yes lord?//_

There was a beat, and Temari felt that something bad had happened.  The voice was whispery—it always was, he said he didn't want to hurt her—but there was a hesitation to it she didn't recognize.

::_It's safe_.::

//_What happened sir?//_

Again, there was the pause.

::_Business. …Congratulations_.::

//_For what, lord?//_

Again, that same beat, same hesitation.  Kankuro caught the expression on her face, and turned his head to the door questioningly.  The others were watching her.

_::…You're the new lord…Lady of the Yamiken.  Everyone in there…are the sole survivors…::_

Temari blinked, confused.  "I don't understand, sir."

_::…Tell them the fox went crazy.  I don't care anymore.  At any rate…if they question you, you can handle it, I know…I've left you alone with them often enough.  …If you need me, call me.  You know how.::_

Temari was quiet.  "What of the other lords, sir?"

There was an intentional pause; Temari could feel that the way she could feel the cold stone beneath her fingers.

::_They're dead_.::

Temari said nothing.

:_:You know…I don't think your brother's so very freaky after all…_::

Again, Temari didn't answer.  

::_I think he's a fucking genius.  Everyone else seems to be, these days_.::

_::…Later_._::_

***

Naruto stumbled out of the room.  

Neither door had been able to open, so he had simply made a hole through one.  With his fist.  Through at least 3 inches of stone and an inch thick sheet of metal.  Maybe some iron mixed up in it even.  And he wasn't even really tired yet.

Blood and gore dripped off him in soft gooky splashes as they fell, his hair streaked to a dark blackish, reddish color hanging down his back, and his face indistinct underneath it all.  Regardless of that, he didn't walk with a hitch, though his left arm hurt a little.  And his neck hurt a lot, in various places because of either puncture wounds or blunt bludgeoning, but even that was steadily healing.  He could feel it healing.  He was still hungry.  After eating all that he was still hungry.  He walked naked shamelessly.  His clothes had been burned to bits

His mind—as with the fire of the forest—still hadn't realized what he had done yet.  

Again, he had been walking on instinct, following some ancient script he didn't remember the words to but still knew the plot by heart…and it had worked.  It added up.  

There were various scratches on the inside stone door, of varying depth all crisscrossing the other and stained with different liquids, some acidic and some blood.  Light still came from the hole Naruto had exited, and he paused momentarily to look through it.  

The fire was still going on it there.  

Vampires were terribly strong, terribly resilient.  They survived eons.  The Lady Eroth, and to a certain degree Vincent, had been excellent examples of that.  Naruto wasn't sure how old either was, except that the Lady Eroth had to be over 200 years old.  She was very proud of that fact, and it had rankled her that she had suffer a little upstart _animal spirit_ of a scant 19 years that still stank so strongly of humanity to tell her what to do.

Vampires were also terribly flammable.  

Naruto blinked once, losing interest, before turning and leaving.

His skin hadn't been burned by the flame; he had felt it, felt the heat and seen them screaming when it touched them, but he hadn't been harmed by it.  He had torn into them with his claws, his fangs and kicked their heads clean off their shoulders, had moved quicker than a fly in a summer haze, and he hadn't been afraid at all.  Not one bit.

He hadn't needed to use weapons.  Not once.

Gaara had gone through something similar, but at a much earlier age.

//_What am I?_//

//_Against monsters like that…I'm still breathing.  I don't hurt.  Not badly.  The ninja hurt me worse._//

And Naruto's eyes clouded over, and he turned his head to the side, at once suddenly self-conscious.  But he didn't cross his arms, didn't offer an inch of defense.

_//…angel.//_

Steadily, Naruto reached his room, and took his red jacket out from under the bed where he had hid it earlier.  His fingers and hands still dirty, he checked to make sure everything he wanted was inside, and then slipped it on, the fabric rubbing uncomfortably against the sticky fluids stuck to his skin.

//_I didn't need help.  I wasn't sure I could do it.  I wasn't sure at all.  But I did.//_

He pulled his hair from under the collar, twisting it into a make-shift ponytail that reached near the back of his knees before he lost interest in that too.__

_//They're dead.  They're all dead._//

Naruto blinked, the words taking on a second meaning.

//_They're all dead._//

_They're all dead. _

Threes.  Things came in threes it seemed.  Three lives, three worlds, three men, three deaths.  

//_Not human.  Not demon.  Not hybrid, whatever Gaara said.  So what…_//

Naruto stopped.

Then he walked out the door.  He took nothing save his red jacket.

***

As for the other, he simply struggled forward.  Struggled and struggled and struggled and when daylight rose he lay on his back, arms held out wide and his eyes on the sun, and slept.  He slept and slept and slept, real genuine sunlight pouring down on him, warming him, tanning his skin.  

He didn't have any scars.  Just some slight ones on his hands from fighting too much.  He had lost more weight than what was humanely possible, than what was medically safe.  He kept walking.  He didn't walk south to the ash.  He walked east, toward the ocean.  He walked during the night, the time when he actually had to be awake, the time when predators prowled and the temperature dropped.  The cold didn't bother him.  

He woke up in the late afternoon of the third day because something was happening around him.  There was a scavenger bird dead in his hand; his fingers had broken its neck without him realizing.  It had been trying to eat him.  He looked around mildly for wood or something flammable, said the hell with it because there wasn't any, and had simply gutted and eaten as cleanly as he could.  It tasted terrible.  He used Gaara's tools without thinking; later he lost them without realizing it.

He had found water on the second night; had drunk and drunk and drunk until he couldn't drink anymore and he had to throw up.  Now he ate.  In the morning of the fourth day and fifth night, he collapsed, and did not get up.

People found him, but hands didn't touch him.  He had thrown away the little red bracelet on the first night.  They took him with him, and let him sleep, waking him up only to feed him and ask him his name.  He told them he wasn't sure anymore.  It was something once; now, he wasn't sure anymore.  He was just tired.  He was just so tired.  

Was he really free?  Were they really real?  Where was the proof it wasn't an illusion, that it wasn't a trick?  He wasn't stupid enough to fall for that again; it was bad enough the first time.  What the hell was he waiting for?  He had won; just do it.  Whatever.  He was gone, he was out of there, and no force on earth could keep him so he could just go ahead and fucking _try_!

They didn't try.  The sun touched men like that; this one had been touched too many times.

Eighteen days after Sasuke left the fortress-castle he found Neji.

He had inadvertently been in the way of a mutant retreat.  All he was really aware of was that the heather and moors he found himself walking in were suddenly a lot more active than they had been a few minutes ago.  He didn't even think.  He attacked, instantly.

He killed the first one with his hands, the second with a kick to the larynx, and had grabbed a katana that seemed to magically jump into his hands and had set to work on anything that didn't feel or smell human.  He took down five more.  He was moving faster than he realized, slipping in and out of visibility like a wraith and his movements had a fluidity and economics to them that they never had before.

Then there wasn't anything that wasn't human anymore.  So he started the thing closest to him.  He would have gotten him too, except that he knew a word, a secret, magic word that made everything in his head click together like polished bits of marble game pieces.  It was a word of power, and the power stunned him slightly.  

"Sasuke!"

He said that word, and he stopped.  He kept the blade tight to his neck, but he stopped.  Then he realized something was wrong.  This one didn't have eyes.  He stared, hard, and nearly asked, "What the hell?"

The blade wasn't in his fingers anymore, and his arms hurt.  He swung out, but he didn't hit anything.  Something was holding him.  Someone was holding him.

"Oh my god…"

Someone was looking at him hard, and not touching him, but he was holding him down.  He sort of hurt in his arms, and his eyes itched strangely.  He wanted to fight.  There was something wrong with his eyes.  He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something wrong with his eyes.  

There was something wrong…

***  

Neji clapped a hand to his neck, feeling for blood.  There was a trickling of it, but it wasn't bad.  It didn't sting too much.  Didn't hurt.  His eyes were still hovering along Sasuke's body.  

With an impassively dry look frozen on his face, his features never changing save to adjust to the Byakugan and its demands, he finally addressed Kakashi.  The elder walked with the help of two crutches.  The end of one was centered on Sasuke's chest and he was leaning heavily on it.

"…I think we've officially found another one."

Kakashi didn't say anything.  

Sasuke didn't look found at all.  He looked lost.

***

They took him with him.  They tended to his wounds, tolerated his glares of suspicion and sharp, pointless questions that Kakashi was decoding.  He had attacked them at night, since he was awake at night and sleeping in the morning, and Kakashi had whacked him nicely across the temples with his crutch, effectively putting him out for the night and breaking his crutch in pieces.  

He didn't answer anything clearly, just the occasional insult and the revealing glance.  He still wouldn't sleep at night, but seemed to find comfort in watching Kakashi sleep.  He found his younger student running his finger along his eye scar one night when the younger supposed the elder was sleeping.  Just a light, butterfly touch along his scar, not moving the mask that covered the lower part of his face or even coming close to it.   He stayed by his bedside the night, staring at times entranced at him and at the night sky.

After that, he stopped trying to attack them, and nearly stopped talking at all.  He started eating what they offered him without question, only a slight hesitation.  They still couldn't get him to sleep at night.  Neji grudgingly carried him in the daytime on his back since Kakashi was barely fit to walk on his own.  It was his proficiency with jutsus and his instinct that was keeping alive.    

Sasuke's intuition and technique were astounding.  Uchiha had always been impressive on the battlefield, but now his accuracy was…chilling.  Kakashi had been unnerved by it on the first night on the moor, watching the body move methodically and kill without pausing or really focusing on what he was doing.  He just did it, as easily as he walked or ran he could kill.  Chillingly efficient and economical.  

So on the upside, even though he was…different and unnerving, Kakashi had himself said that surprise attacks were no longer a problem.  

***

Neither the Kakashi or the Neji really convinced him.  Oh, it was good; he'd admit that readily, it was really good.  But it wasn't very convincing.  It was disconcerting, which made him think, but not too hard.  He wasn't thinking much of anything.  He didn't feel much either.

The sun touched his neck when he slept on Neji's back.  The air smelled of ash.

Mostly he watched from the inside, watched how they looked at him, how they treated him.  They were wary, but not afraid of him.  They were reluctant to let him go.  That didn't surprise him.  He'd leave if they weren't constantly keeping him there subtly, not physically restraining him, but still keeping him with them with the promise of a mattress he never slept on, running water he never stayed under too long, and food he ate sparingly and infrequently.  There was always the opportunity to fight, to kill something not human, to win.  He could still fight and win.  He was still shinobi.  He was still _him_.

Sometimes there were others, but they didn't come near him.  He didn't like them.  They felt human, and wouldn't come near him, so he didn't hurt them but he didn't like them.  They looked at him funny and if he just slightly _glared_ at them they turned away swiftly, embarrassed or afraid.  Sometimes there were bowls, and things cooked in pots and chopsticks.  Lots of times he heard conversation that wasn't directed at him and had nothing to do with him, voices that weren't laughing or mocking, but were sad and afraid.  He let it go by.  He just watched.

Kakashi and Neji both watched him.  

He was changed.  In many ways, but not changed the way one would expect.  The shock was expected, the disorientation.  The changed aspect was his new killing drive.  That was unnerving.  The need—not desire, but actual _need_--for blood was different.  The ease of calling the Sharingan was different; he did it at times without realizing it.  Something would click in his ears, and he'd be scanning the terrain with the Sharingan without knowing what he was looking for or what had made him pause.  He healed swiftly; that was different.  He was stronger, but his speed outstripped his strength, and his speed kept on increasing.  Exponentially.  He was faster than Kakashi had been when he could walk on both feet no problem.  That was very different.  He didn't trust anyone or anything, and that didn't seem to bother him at all.  

He had lost a lot—nearly as much as they had.  But it didn't seem to bother him at all.  Icy, aloof, but with a new need that didn't fit together at all.  His distance was so solid it seemed strange.  There were holes in the puzzle.

Kakashi put the pieces together after he saw him react to Ino.

"Sasuke-kun!"

She had come running at him, thrown her arms around him, and he hadn't hit her or attacked reflexively.  His arms were raised and hands bent at aggressive angles, but he hadn't attacked.  He was confused.  She was hurting him, squeezing him too hard and a heavy weight around his neck.  She smelled like old sweat and faintly of soap.  Her hair smelled like apple shampoo.  Her hair was blond and her eyes were blue.  She was weak; he could kill her easy.  He startled.

This…had happened to him before.  Had happened often.  He had hated it.  It was so annoying and he really hated it a lot but it hadn't been…not hurt, just annoying.  But it was…happening now.  Why hadn't it…wait a minute?  Before?  He was…wait a minute he was…he was…

He pushed her off and away, and looked hard into her face held a few inches from his.  She was crying a little, not much, and she blushed.  He let go almost immediately, but didn't stop staring at her shamelessly.  She didn't stop blushing.

Kakashi watched from the corner of his eye.  //_Ahhh__…I see._//

***

Kakashi stared off at nothing, his hands supporting his chin.  He wasn't really thinking; just allowing everything he knew to sort themselves out in his head, since they knew where they went better than he did.  His stomach hurt a little, and his chest still hurt despite everything Hinata had done for him.  His left leg ached worst in the cold of the night, but it wasn't so bad just then.

He was alone in his room; the little hotel they all stayed at had forced them into pairs, but allowed for him to have his own room.  None of the old students really wanted to get close to him, mostly because of the inexplicable shadow that popped up behind him suddenly when it was dark.  

"Aren't you angry?  Aren't you sad?"  

And there was his little shadow.  

Sasuke's voice was angry, accusing, as if not being sad or angry or both was a terrible crime, a betrayal of everything there had been and was _now_.  It was wrong, not to feel that.  It made him feel angr_ier_…and alone.

Kakashi glanced at him sideways.  He let the words and Sasuke's temper simmer down.  "Personal isn't the same as important," he said gently.  His shadow's eyes flashed bright red; not quite the usual Sharingan.  Something had happened to Sasuke.  He wouldn't say what.  "You do what you can.  Here and now, you do what you can."

"Do you _sleep_ like that?"  There was cold, dead venom in his student's voice, so Kakashi told the truth.

"Sometimes.  Not always."

Sasuke relented.  That had been the surrender he had been looking for, the admission of vulnerability, and now he was satisfied enough to relent and let his guard down somewhat.  He wore it thick even around Hinata and Shikamaru, who wouldn't hurt him if they could, and couldn't hurt him if they had to.  

"I don't sleep."

"I've noticed."

Sasuke came closer by two steps then halted.  He wouldn't come within arms reach of anyone, and kept his hands free and eyes sharp.

He was supposed to be rooming with Neji since he could control him physically, but it was always to Kakashi that he hung around when he had to hang around anyone.  As long as he didn't start killing indiscriminately or stop coming back, Kakashi let him have his freedom.  He had a hard time figuring out how to keep it from him.

"Do you plan to _do_ anything about it?  Or just mope in your room?"

Kakashi shot him a cool look, but didn't give him the satisfaction of a greater reaction.  He'd been picking fights with everyone lately, even Shikamaru who could barely stand up and showed him the same catlike disdain and indifference he always had.  He didn't fight with Sasuke; mostly just told him he was being a tiresome bother.  Strangely—or perhaps not—he left Iruka and Hinata alone.  He ignored them completely; they didn't even exist to him.  But Neji, Shikamaru, even Ino and certainly Kakashi were all fair game.  

Ino was the only one who really wanted to shave his head and punch his teeth out after what he said to her, but Shikamaru had stopped her.  Neji didn't seem to care, as long as he stayed away from Hinata.  Unlike Hinata who was quietly miserable, Neji seemed perfectly happy when things looked truly grim and dark; his behavior didn't change significantly, but it changed enough to for those who knew him to notice.  He was tolerant of Uchiha's glares and insults, for one.   

"Bet you feel like your guardian angel went out for a smoke, huh?" Kakashi asked with a slight smile warming his voice.  

The atmosphere cooled uncomfortably, and Sasuke took a step back.  His eyes had changed back to the normal black; he had no control over it anymore, or he didn't care enough to try.

He gave Kakashi a dirty look, a betrayed look, "Sasuke?  What's wrong?" and left without reply or sound.  His clothes barely rustled on his skin anymore, but Kakashi noted that at least he trusted him enough to give him his back.

They found Lee three days later, sick and immobile, but alive.  Hinata and Iruka overlooked his health, discharging him from the hospital with less than legal methods.  At first it was only Hinata focusing on him, taking care of him, with Iruka coming in mechanically on the sidelines when he remembered his heart was still beating and there were things for him to do.  

Not even Kakashi could pull him out of his shell; it was that deep, that thick.  He was a little like Sasuke in that respect: quiet, cold, but without the sharp suspicious edge.  He didn't seem to _have_ an edge anymore, nothing that he could cut with and nothing that anyone could get a handle on and pull him or push him anywhere.  He just floated like a cloud; unanchored, untouchable and incomplete.

***

And Naruto wandered.

His legend was renowned: both as the Nine Tails Fox and as the Demon King.  He found it amusing but not surprising that outside the fortress-castle few would recognize his face.  There was no trace of Gaara; when he wanted to hide, he wouldn't be found.  Civilization had been demolished to the point where old Gaara-kun could have gone on a three-week killing spree and few would have noticed it was the work of one very special demon child.

He could have found Sasuke again, if he really felt like it.  He didn't even bother to try, but walked around in the ashes of his old home for a couple weeks.  He had looked out at the phantom forest a couple times before, but he'd never done it alone.  There'd always been someone else there for him to show-off to. This was the first time he'd walked among the ghost trees since he had started it all.  The air was cold and dirty without the trees.

He searched for the warm alien presence in his mind, tried to forcibly summon her out so she could see what she had harassed him for in the dark, with nightmares of blood smell and taste, speed, trees and lakes of blood, and a man he could recognize now, a man he recognized now as his own father standing tall in front of him.  

His jaw was square instead of Naruto's pointed chin (from his mother perhaps?), and his mouth wider, nose straighter and longer, Roman noble.  But his face was angular, handsome, honest looking without the whisker-shaped scars on his cheeks.  He was much taller than Naruto, body unmistakably masculine (unlike the son) and ninja slender and powerful.  His eyes were blue too, but darker than Naruto's.  The shape was long and narrow compared to Naruto's wide-open eyes but still friendly and kind, and size of the iris were smaller than Naruto's, the pupil bigger.  His hair was longer than Naruto's, the cut different, but the color was nearly the same.   

Without Sasuke there to tempt him (sex?) and torture, without Gaara to talk to at night and sleep with (sex?) during the day, Naruto realized more things about his father than what he had ever known.  He had been too young to remember him when he was a baby, but the Nine Tails' memory of him was very clear.  And now that she was gone, completely _erased_ from his mind, he could search through her memories in skips and flashes.  

She remembered the battle crystal clear, bits of it tinted over with overwhelming emotion.  She had lived in the forest long before the shinobi had; she had attacked when they started encroaching on her territory, as humans naturally do, inevitably.  Naruto learned why she attacked (she loved the trees), learned how the village had looked that far back (not much different), learned how his father had fought and felled her (through trickery), later imprisoning her in him.  He learned how his father looked, how he moved and how his voice sounded when he spoke and screamed.  Naruto learned a lot.

Naruto had his father's smile.  

He hadn't known that.

He still didn't know his name.  

***

A/N:  'Personal isn't the same as important,' is something Captain Carrot Ironfounderson says.  I did not create that phrase, Mr. Terry Prattchet did.  

Yay!  21 pages!  I'm cutting down!  I'm trying to copy Goddes Kes and Myth-san's style and write _less_…I ramble too much ^^;;

Note: _I_ don't even know the Fourth's real name: I just know him as Yondaime, and I think that means 'the fourth' in Japanese, since they call Tsunade the Gondaime, and the Rokudaime is the 6th.  That's kind of sad; guy does all this stuff, and no one knows his name, at least in the bootlegged stuff I read.  And we are…near the middle!  This is the beginning of the middle!  We are past the beginning!  Yay!  …I really do have an ending for this.  There's just so much I haven't _written_…

I LOVE my LotR CD…Annie Lennox is so _pretty_ :D

Oh!  I also can't get into my ff.net account from home for some reason, nor can I even _review_.  Not even anonymously (not 'cos I don't want to, it's because I _can't_.  Ick).  I'm not sure why.  Ergo, updates are gonna be kind of sporadic or very all-at-once sort of thing.


	11. I: Ayami

A/N: Wolf packs bite (gently) the bottom jaw of the pack leader.  I made Naruto do this, even though he's a fox.

**Necromancy**: Summoning the dead by magic, having to do with the dead and magic. 

**Necrophilia**: having sex with the dead.

"There's touch, but no contact." Line borrowed from Mr. James Baldwin's stunning novel, _Giovanni's Room_.  

I'd like to thank _all_ my lovely reviewers who have stuck with me through this monster of a saga; I know it's long darlings; my fingers ache; it's _long_.  I'm thinking _too_ long but I don't seem able to cut.  It.  Down.  *_^  I'm wordy.  Special thanks to **Seraphina DW** for catching the mistake in the lyrics-quote in Ch.9—gosh, I'm really lazy with stuff like that.  I'd didn't even really bother to check to see if it was right, so thanks for correcting me *hands magical bowl of Cheerios*  I hope you like cereal, I'm off to take a nap!  

I didn't really like how I kept shifting tenses, and by the time I realized it, it was too late to fix without screwing things up; that and I got lazy.  

*** 

Standard Disclaimer Applies at All Times

Attraction 

by gelfling 

gelfling8604@yahoo.com

//_Thoughts//_

_::Invading Thoughts_::

***

Heroes went for the monster's heart, but monsters went for the neck.

--Chapter 5

"Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?  Good God that is a gun in your pocket!"

"But I am happy to see you…stay still."

--Conservation between Me and _Friend_

"I never sleep with men, especially ugly ones."

-Vash the Stampede, _Trigun_

***

"Well," Shikamaru remarked lazily after being the unwilling listener to what seemed a three-hour rant against the unfairness of the world in general and against poverty to beautiful young maidens and unfeeling comrades in particular.  //_Sheesh…is it over yet?_//

Ino didn't touch on the monster subject, no surprise there.  That was a real problem that couldn't even be whined or gossiped about.  It was a constant worry, but a little taboo to talk about lightly.  It was real enough every night without having to talk about it in her free time, so she didn't waste much energy on it, at least not when gorgeous but icy Sasuke Uchiha proved more interesting because he constantly harassed her even he wasn't there.

Shikamaru watched her tap scratched fingernails irritably against her crossed arms, and hoped she didn't have a new hangnail.  Those always caused lectures that lasted _way_ too long, he didn't understand a word she said, and he had no idea what he was expected to do either.  Ino grunted in her throat and glared at him expectantly.

Oh, right.  This was the part where he came in with a dazzling sympathetic condolence.  He'd almost forgotten.  "At least money's not a problem anymore," he drawled sensibly.

The blonde beauty scowled prettily at him, before rolling her eyes and flipping her cut hair over one shoulder daintily.  "Trust you _boys_ to stick together no matter _what_ happens and it's not even like he likes you anymore than he likes me _either_!"  She shook her head irritably as she changed his bandages a bit _too_ roughly, yanking the old ones off instead of removing them neatly.  

//_She's so sloppy…Hinata-kun is much better at this.  And _so_ much _quieter_._//

"Anyway it's not—_natural_ for him, or at least I'm sure it's not healthy.  He works too much, a whole lot more than _you_ do, no surprise _there_," Shikamaru ponders how much sleep he can get in before she realizes he isn't paying attention, "but he's going to run himself ragged just like Kakashi-sensei did and _then_ what?  Huh?  Then what're we supposed to do?"

He flinched when the bandage is pulled a little _too_ hard; oozing fluids making them stick to his body despite how clean he is.  He'd been pushed into the shower and scrubbed only every other _night_.

"I swear, just because he gets itchy at night he thinks it's okay to do whatever he wants and _nobody_ tells him not to!" she glared at him pointedly.  Shikamaru raised an eyebrow sluggishly just to humor her.  

"So that makes everything okay!  He could _die_ out there, and no one's bothering to stop him!  He's gonna get himself killed and it'll probably be _days_ before anyone even knows it!  It's driving me nuts!"

"He's always done what he wanted," Shikamaru mutters coolly.  

His eyes and voice are cool.  It's enough to stop her, the chill demanding even though he speaks quietly, idly.  Shikamaru can stand a lot of things, but some wounds he can't ignore.  He and Uchiha haven't really ever been friends, and he's given a lot for the other's whims.  More than he ever wanted to and nearly more than he can stand.  He's somewhat thankful the Yamanaka crush isn't as serious as it once was, but the residual protectiveness Ino feels gets on his nerves.

Her hands aren't so rough over his wounds anymore, and she only glances up briefly at his eyes that aren't looking at her.  She warms up the ointment in her hands thoughtfully before applying it gently.  He stays silent.  

He can barely walk a couple feet unaided, needs help to stand up, and running is a far off dream.  There's something wrong with his back, something that has to do with nerves.  It isn't terminal or permanent, but it'll keep him from fighting physically for a couple years, the doctors estimate.  It gives him an excuse to lie on his back all day, so he doesn't complain _too_ much; just enough to shut Ino up.

It's better than Lee, who was always a little raw from his leg surgery years ago to start with and now has real trouble just sitting up.  He can stay awake longer now though, and sometimes makes really bad jokes that draw a smile out of Hinata and a laugh out of Ino.  

Iruka is worse.  He isn't badly hurt physically, but inside his head there's things going on that not even Shikamaru can figure out.  When he asked, Kakashi-sensei (who's somehow been elected leader of the fragmented group) just said that Iruka-sensei needed his space and time.  Either he'd get better on his own, or they'd have to do something about it.  Right now it was best just to let things lie.

Shikamaru ponders this.

Well, things had been lying for a while now.  They'd licked their wounds and found out that it was still hard to get up in the morning, and for all the comfort they can give each other, the pain doesn't go away.  Every time he breathes the air outside, he can smell the stink of ash.  The autumn rains took a lot of it away, caused some pretty bad flooding and landslides because of the loose dirt, but Shikamaru can still smell the ash and feel the heat of the fire, and when he looks into Iruka's face he knows he's not the only one.  

They keep moving because there's nothing else to do.  They keep fighting because giving up isn't what Leaf shinobi do, and Kakashi would probably lecture them—in his lazy, sarcastic way--for it until they got back up again.  The only one who's reacted to it violently has been Sasuke Uchiha.

Sasuke Uchiha who was supposed to prevent it, and by turn of fate didn't.  Shikamaru doesn't blame him too much for that, the crux of the attack wasn't his fault.  But it's strange that Sasuke didn't die in it, that he isn't marked by scars that can be seen on his skin.  No burns, no cuts, no nothing.  He's a bit starved and his hair is longer: that's the only physical change.  

No one mentions it—not Kakashi-sensei who sees everything, not Neji who comes close to smiling at times, and not Shikamaru who is always looking for their weakest spot and thinking how to protect it—but they know that Sasuke wasn't just lucky, not like they were.  It wasn't that he was fast enough to get out.  

His Sharingan is nearly a reflex now, and he knows Stone and Sand ninjutsu that not even Kakashi can attest to.  He always looks a little bit haunted, always a little bit hungry, and always a little bit cold.  Nervously and out of character, Hinata even pointed out quietly to Kakashi-sensei that Sasuke-kun's energy signature looks a little bit different; he simply smiled and thanked her for telling him.  He won't say what happened to him if he can be cornered and questioned.

Ino Yamanaka managed it, asked him what the hell had happened to him and where had he been hiding out all this time, and Kakashi had to keep Sasuke from attacking her and Iruka held her back while she kicked and screamed, her lip bleeding fiercely and eyes flashing.  Who gave a _fuck_ if it was Sasuke-kun or _not_; no one hit her!  No one!

Neji stood back and watched, the slight nearly-there smile haunting his lips before taking Sasuke out for a silent walk like a rabid dog.  

No one else has been stupid enough to pry information from him.  Sasuke's angrier than anyone has seen in a long time, cynical, and he sees deeper into a person and doesn't have the scruples to shove their weaknesses in their face.  He won't attack if left alone, but if provoked he'd go after anyone anyhow.  And he _is_ their strongest fighter.  He held back when he punched the girl; if it had been the blind one, he might've fractured his skull.  Not kill him, but throw him into a coma.  He wasn't to be touched.  He didn't want to be touched.  He didn't want to talk.  

Kakashi says he isn't a spy though it seems pretty damn likely.  Still, Shikamaru believes him.  If anyone can get the Uchiha to open up, can control him, Shikamaru knows it'll be him.  For as long as Kakashi's with them, he doesn't worry about the Uchiha as much as he feels inclined to.

In the mean time, they wait and wonder, drawing their own conclusions, and watch his nightly romps.  Sasuke usually comes back with his sandals and blades bloody, tired, and Neji usually goes with him to make sure he isn't attacking innocents or humans, nearly synonymous now.  

The group travels from village to tavern steadily moving east towards the ocean despite the complications Lee and Shikamaru provide because towards the west there are too many _things_.  Dark things.  Unnatural things.  Evil things.

It isn't safe towards the west anymore.  It's as if someone opened a huge dam; the creatures keep pouring in, raiding the towns that can't protect themselves and those that can they burn.  The remaining shinobi—the Grass, Lightening, and Mist—hold back the majority of night folk in a net stretching from north to south, but many slip through the holes.  They aren't human, though many look it.  Enough to pass through in daylight, enough to kill and steal and not be caught.  

Kakashi-sensei remarked dryly that there's a war brewing, but he isn't sure if it's starting or ending.  The war's been brewing a while; the party obviously happened _somewhere_, and apparently they got stuck with the check, so they might as well deal with it on their own terms.  And nothing else's.  

And this is where Sasuke Uchiha comes in.

Neji Hyuuga comes close to smiling; just standing by and watching him work every night, through rain or fog, it doesn't matter to Sasuke.  Neji always has to be on guard, because though Sasuke can tell when they're being followed, knows when they're about to be attacked, he usually doesn't bother to inform Neji even _after_ the battle begins.  He forgets Neji's with him at times.  It's like Sasuke can smell them, sense them, and he attacks them before they have a chance to even scramble.  The predators have a hunter from the most unlikely of places—nowhere—and Neji nearly smiles at the irony.

Kakashi doesn't like them being away at night—his two best fighters gone, it leaves the nest unprotected.  But it'd be near impossible to tie the Uchiha down for even one night—and again Neji almost smiles—and impossible to keep him once they'd done it.  He _needs_ it, he needs to run and fight more than he needs to eat.  

So he goes on his nightly runs, and if the nest _is_ attacked then there's always Ino, Hinata, and Kakashi to defend it.  Shikamaru and Lee have trouble standing up, and Iruka has trouble living in the present; they have no idea _how_ he'd react.  Neji carries a communicator, just in case of emergencies.

The little ninja group is becoming popular because of their mysterious psychopath—Neji ducks his head because he feels a smirk coming on—so they're getting assignments and missions from desperate and sometimes rich, sometimes poor villages who want the little red-eyed lunatic's attention even while they lick their wounds, even though they're supposed to be silent and invisible because it's still far too dangerous to be seen yet.  

The _other people_ are on the hunt--the half-breeds and vampires and monsters--and save for the dark little shadow with red eyes that flits in and out of their lives they don't have a solid a defense.  But they need the money, need doctors and a place to sleep, so they lease out what they have and what is in _very_ high demand.  Ordinary people who had abandoned magic years ago in favor of microwave ovens find the night-fairies stealing the children and hunting the men.  

Rumor travels fast on fear, Shikamaru notes.  The employers deal with Kakashi only; they don't meet their savior, their demon hunter, or else they might shit in their pants from fear.  Their demon slayer is barely human himself.

Neji smiles.  He has to hold himself back or else he might start laughing.

***

No one sees him tremble at night.  No one sees him scream.  

He's angry, and he's afraid.  He doesn't know how to grieve, but his loss is so great that he almost wishes he had learned just so he could be rid of the feeling once and for all.  It's tiring.  And it hurts.  He hurts.  

The blind one is at his back, nearly smiling, watching him.  That makes him angry.  That makes him feel safe.  

The old one—the one he remembers--makes him tea late in the morning when he comes back.  He doesn't know if it's drugged or not; he doesn't care.  He gulps down chamomile and green before falling asleep in the elder's bed.  The window is open if the day is warm, the curtains always pulled back to let the sunlight in even if it rains.  He won't sleep in a room without a window; he'd rather sleep outside.

He usually wakes up in the late afternoon, and stared once for a long time at the antique gold light coming through the window in thick rods.  He's mesmerized until he hears laughter in the back of his ears, a flash of summer blue, and then he jumps, landing on his feet on the ceiling, reaching for weapons that have been taken off him while he slept.  

He reacts defensively to the mechanical beep and the older one that he came to think of as father so many long years ago pulls fried rice from the microwave still in it's Styrofoam take-out box.  He's lectured about cleaning his weapons properly while rice is served into two bowls.  He comes down from the ceiling.  There's more tea to drink.  Oolong, Kakashi tells him.

//_Kakashi._//

The pieces fall into place quicker.  The names come together easier.  He doesn't say his own, but he remembers the old one's name.  He's starting to understand what happened.  It makes it harder to go out into the night and kill indiscriminately while the blind one watches his back and nearly smiles.  

He hesitates.  "Thanks."

The lighter man doesn't even blink.  "No problem.  Sugar?  Or honey?"

"No.  Thanks."

He speaks to him alone.  And he never says much.  But he still hears the silent sigh of relief that the elder breathes out.

The old anger is still there, the humiliation and sorrow.  Grief.  But it isn't going away with what he does, so he's kind of trying to figure out what _will_ make it go away.

"Still hungry?"

"Yes."

"If you want more—well, actually that was the last of the fried rice.  Errr…I could make some more if you feel brave enough to try my cooking, or there's the veggie stew Hinata made a couple days ago, it's not too bad, and strange green vegetables are healthy for you.  It's pretty good once you put enough salt into it.  Want some?"

"No."

"What can I get you then?"

"You can't."

And they left it at that.  He doesn't know what he wants.  He knows no one else can get it for him.

***

He doesn't know what makes everything click into place.  Maybe it's seeing Kakashi tie his head protector over his scarred eye, and realize that he doesn't have one to push his hair back, even though he used to have one before it was stolen.  Taken.  

Maybe it's seeing Ino flip her blonde hair over her shoulder, crystalline light blue eyes glowering at him balefully before relenting enough to offer a small smile.  Maybe it's Neji's nearly-smile on his back, watching him silently while he labors.  

He barely notices Shikamaru and Lee.  He forgets they are there.  

Iruka looks the way he feels.  Silent.  Cold.  Hinata is better off, and sometimes he watches her secretly from a distance.  She's the healer of the group, clever with herbs and her hands and offering quiet kindness, but her eyes aren't the same as his or Iruka's.  She doesn't know.  She suspects, knows more than she lets on, but she doesn't know.  And he slouches, brooding.

Hinata had a crush.  And he's never forgotten it, though he forgave it sometime back and now resents it again.  He doesn't know why.  

He needs more than he's getting.  He's hungry.  And even though he doesn't want to hurt Kakashi more than he has already with his silence and slaughter, he's going to have to if he's going to feel settled again.  

So he delays one night in apology, staying his wander lust and sits on the roof of their new living space, and keeps watch through the chilly night.  It's turning to winter.  Neji sits with him; as always, he ignores him completely, but he notes that he isn't nearly-smiling anymore.  He isn't angry, but he's not smiling.  He wouldn't be surprised if Neji knows what he's going to do.  He won't stop him, he isn't able to, but he acknowledges inside his head.  He leaves a little bit after 2:05 AM, visiting Kakashi's bed silently.  He's never seen his face uncovered and he doesn't care to.  He touches the head protector laid by the bedside.  

He leaves before the sun rises.

***

"Hello miss," Naruto said with a grin. "Is Ayami available? Only I've got the worst crick in my neck like you wouldn't _believe_, and it's been killing me all week."

An elderly, plump woman with an amiable and vacant smile and sharp ambitious eyes smiled extravagantly at him and nodded rapidly: Naruto not only paid on time, but he tipped heavy if the girl made him happy, practically threw the money away. All tips, naturally, went straight to her.  The girls tried to make him _very_ happy.

Then the request registered in her brain.

"Oh, so sorry, but Ayami is visiting her sister in the country, she may not be back for some time. Very sorry, very sorry…But any other girl you want, you can have for half price, yes? All are excellent masseuses, they get crick out of neck no time! Any girl, any other girl you want, yes? Who would you like?"

//_Ayami doesn't have a sister…  Old crone, I'm _blonde_, not stupid.  You could just _say_ she's busy stupid, I know she's here.//  _

Naruto's face shows none of this_.  //…Whatever.  Whatever._//__

Naruto's face just radiates pure amiable bewilderment while it twisted into several interesting pictures while he thought, raising his eyebrows and quirking the corners of his mouth into huge grins and extravagant frowns, before closing his eyes and slightly raising his hands in front of him and _concentrating_ and then--

His eyes snapped opened.

His face was calm if a little disturbed, but the wide smile came back easily to him when he said playfully, "Surprise me! I'm not too picky, and I really just want this gone." 

He put his hand on the side of his neck, and flinched before snapping it away. "Gone! Wow, geez, I think it's only getting worse!  …Better give me someone with strong hands who knows how to be gentle, I'm gonna need it…"

He grinned sheepishly and shrugged.  So it's cheesy, so what?  He doesn't care.  It's not like it matters what the old bag in front of him thinks anyway.  

The woman's face dimmed momentarily before switching on like a light bulb. 

"Ah! I know just the girl. Special girl, you'll like a lot. Here key, West Cherry Room, I get girl to show you—"

Naruto snatched the key from out of her hand.

"No, no, that'll be all right! I know my way by now. Just don't keep me waiting, 'kay?" 

Naruto flashed her with a winning grin, and was mildly pleased when she blushed slightly before laughing out loud and sauntered out the room and down the hall. He had a good reputation here; besides paying well, he wasn't cruel with the girls, and tried to take an interest in everybody. 

If absolutely necessary, he could count on the ladies for a small bit of protection if he was ever in trouble, and all _sorts_ of interesting information could be picked from their minds, and even more would be willingly told. 

He approached the door of the room silently, and watched the other doors and end of the hall carefully, even more attention paid to the space behind him. He paused before the door, then unlocked and opened it, to find it empty. He still examined above the door before entering, and left the door unlocked behind him. 

Did anyone care that this wasn't a real massage parlor?  Doubtful.  Management didn't try very hard to hide it, not with the queen-sized bed that dominated the room with its dark embroidered comforter and clean sheets trimmed with satin.  There was a glass sliding door that overlooked the cliffside garden and a better part of the ocean, partially hidden by a folding paper screen.  Naruto sighed, his face somber and took his shoes off.

He was in the bathroom when he heard the door open and shut, took a deep breath, and stepped out with a wide smile and squeezing some strawberry lotion into his hands.

"Do you like strawberry? I've been more of an apple kinda guy myself, but…"

A girl met his eyes somewhat timidly, her face clean and pale with dark auburn hair pulled back and away from her face into a single thin ponytail at the nape of her neck, twin strands of bangs framing her face. Her face and body was a fragile Oriental structure, wrapped up in a loose gray-blue silk kimono with kiwi green sprigs embroidered on the hemline and obi. Light blue charcoal gray eyes met his, with tiny flecks of lavender surrounding the iris.

"…But you…can pick something different…if you want. There's…plenty to choose from…"

Naruto grinned widely at her, a little goofily while a bright light sprung on behind his eyes, and lotion overflowing in his hand. Her eyes traveled to his hand.

"Oh, _sh—_shoot!  Shoot!My mistake! I'll just, um, get that cleaned up be with you in right a minute!" 

Naruto darted back into the bathroom, turned on the sink loudly, wiped his hands roughly on a towel and put a thick leather glove on one hand. A thin layer of copper was sewn inside of it, and it was plated with bronze and silver.  He slipped off a silver bracelet from his other hand and shoved it into his pocket after serious thought.  

He came back out of the bathroom loudly, just in time to dodge crouch, _grab_ and turn on his heel and _push_. 

Movement stopped momentarily. He ignored the sharp pain in his gut and crotch, as well as the cut burning gratingly on his arm, and clutched the iron knife tighter in his gloved fist. He leaned down to the girl's ear and whispered:

"Hey Sasuke. Thought you'd never get here."

His face was hit hard as the head in front of him reared back violently, swore, rolled and swung out hard clipping a good hit, scoring a good punch, backpedaled quickly and shifted to the left and threw the knife hard into the wall so it vibrated where it hit, his fingers bleeding and ribs bruised. 

He darted to the right, planning to charge, but instead quickly jumped and clung to the ceiling where three iron shuriken buried themselves down into the woodwork, and dropped down only to change direction midway.  He was slightly surprised, but too busy flowing with the movement to show it.  

//_He's faster_.//

He swung across with his elbow and felt relieved satisfaction when it connected with a meaty thud, grabbed, tossed, punched down again and winced as he was kicked in the gut and snatched the wire string out of his side pockets and tied them painfully tight around the wrists and ankles, muttering under his breath and digging his knee into the center of the figure's spine.  He pulled the body roughly on to it's back, pinning the shoulders carefully.

Straddling the waist and holding down heavily on one shoulder, he pulled another slim iron dagger out of the kimono with his gloved hand.

Naruto's face was completely serious and slightly breathless as he tapped Sasuke's nose once with the tip.

"Bad. Not bring here…" Light blue gray eyes dusted with purple glanced up at him, a little breathless. Naruto nodded shakily. "I take it you're not here for a massage."

Sasuke snorted, his feminine voice now a little lighter and smoother than when he was child.  He was glowering, but not too angrily.  "Neither are you."  It's strange, but he doesn't have a problem talking to the fox.  He had imagined he would.

"Was too!" he shot back sulkily. "I really do have a crick in my neck," he looked pointedly down at Sasuke, "And a pain in my ass like you wouldn't--"

Sasuke jerked his knees forward into Naruto back, and arched up to bite him when he came crashing down. He squirmed feverishly and jerked at his wrists bound behind his back and funneled some chakra down, but the binds didn't feel any looser. 

He was shoved back down severely, both hands on his shoulders and pressing down painfully on his arms bent under him, with Naruto now slightly kneeling between his legs while at the same time sitting on top of them. It didn't help at all that he was in a female body, something he was unfamiliar with and wouldn't do exactly what he wanted it to, and he hadn't the time to learn how to accommodate it.  The legs are strong, but weaker than his real ones, and the arms are very weak.  

Naruto's eyes razed quickly over his body, and laughed dirtily. 

The kimono had come undone during the scuffle, showing ample amount of neckline and thighs, two small hills peaked just under the hemline, barely covered, his collarbone prominent, his stomach open and vulnerable, and there was barely enough to cover his crotch. There was barely anything covering it at all.

Sasuke was scowling indifferently, his eyes narrowing.  

Naruto was still grinning at him darkly, his breath coming back to him as his panting slowed.

Then, dipping his head and keeping eye contact, stuck his tongue out and ran the tip along the divide of his ribcage, making sure Sasuke was watching. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

His voice was very odd in his female form--It didn't sound _nearly_ cold enough.  Vulpine eyes flared with pleasure.  

Naruto just chuckled darkly, gripped his shoulders harder, mildly surprised when Sasuke refused to flinch and ran his tongue _slowly_ up the curve of the sphere, applied even more pressure when Sasuke _did_ flinch and pushed the hanging kimono off the left breast and began sucking on the pert pink nipple, listened to Sasuke's heart rapping under his skin, and playfully pressed his hips into Sasuke's.

Now Sasuke _did_ jump and struggled hard, kicking out with his ankles and knees and biting whatever he could because that was just too fucking _weird_. 

_//No.//_

_//No!//_

Dimly, he heard Naruto swear and yelp, and found himself again pinned down, this time with a cloud of chakra weighing and keeping him there, slight invisible bonds wrapped around his chest and pulling him down. A hand clamped down over his mouth.

"If you scream, they'll think it's a compliment," Naruto said rapidly while he struggled. There was a red mark on his cheek from where Sasuke's forehead had hit him and blood dribbling out of his healing lip. "I'm known for not hurting anybody. Famous for it. I'm not gonna start now with the new girl, am I?  …No one'll come. Don't waste your breath."

The hand was taken away and Sasuke wrenched his face away, resisting the urge to spit and anger burned in his eyes while Naruto stared down at him. He was still breathing hard, his eyes narrowed and with a red-russet thread of color flashing off and on in the back of his eyes. 

Naruto was staring down impassively at him, neither surprised nor angry with him. He had known Sasuke was here, but Sasuke had known about him longer. He'd been watching, waiting, just laying the trap. 

_//Funny place to lay a trap._//

If he hadn't taken the time to think about a new girl, hadn't puzzled over Ayami's absence, hadn't bothered to check the prospective minds and bodies first…Sasuke would have had him solid. He was too careless. And since Sasuke had had two iron knives on him and shuriken, he would have been caught easy. Caught and killed easy, too easy, by the looks of things. 

Naruto sighed.

"Guess this means I'm not gonna get my massage, huh?"

"Let go of my hands and see."  His voice is steady.  His voice is steady and it doesn't stick in his throat like usual.  The fox doesn't seem to notice.

Naruto sighed again, and flicked a finger against Sasuke's cheek. He wasn't really here for a massage; hardly anyone ever came here for a massage. But he _did_ need to burn off some of the extra energy that had been built up over the days, and Sasuke just _had_ to screw things around. 

Sasuke.

Hm. 

He could _feel_ his baser nature watching him, just pushing him ever so gently in the absolutely wrong direction.  _//…and to think I was avoiding you.  You never do what I want.//_

"You know…" Naruto looked down at him speculatively. "You do look good as a girl."

Sasuke narrowed his eyes.  He isn't surprised; he didn't want this, but he isn't surprised.  His mind is stuck in present, his muscles think for him like they have been for the past month.  He isn't surprised.

"You looked good as a boy, but you look good as a girl too."

Naruto allowed this to sink in with a calculating smirk while he continued to lay down the facts. Sasuke's expression hadn't changed yet.

"And this is a brothel. And I am _legally_ paying for you half-price per the hour. You sir," Naruto poked the center of Sasuke's chest, "Owe _me_ some action."

Sasuke looked up at him incredulously. His reply took a second too long, because unfortunately, most cuss words have innuendos buried in them, even the very innocent one's like "Fuck you" and "Up yours".  Besides, he isn't sure if he should bother with insults at all.  

Naruto's hearing was damnably good.

"No, no, no…I'm in control. You're on the bottom. It's up _yours_," he whispered with a smile.

Sasuke looked up at him darkly, his eyes only slightly wider in his female form, still breathtakingly beautiful and feeling alien, uncomfortable sensations as Naruto cupped one breast gently and was idly stroking the nipple with his thumb, smiling down gently at him.  Wasn't this an illusion?  Wasn't it just a form of concentrated chakra?  …So how could he feel the sensations?  

Sasuke pouts. 

Sasuke Uchiha came all this way, abandoned _them_ (momentarily, he tells himself.  They'd thank him later) and he came with one purpose in mind.  Strangely, now that the chance is there, the opportunity was there, he didn't do everything he could have.  He came here to fight.  He didn't fight as hard as he could have.  Strangely, he isn't afraid.  He should be afraid; this sort of thing snapped him awake in the afternoons, made him crawl the walls as 4 AM.  But he's not afraid.

"Personally," Naruto said softly, glancing down along their bodies, his knees firmly wedged between Sasuke's legs tied together at the ankles, "I'd think it'd be kinda weird for you…but very easy for me."

Sasuke frowned, before a kind of disgusted understanding dawned on him, confirmed when Naruto glanced back up to grin ferally at him, and felt his cheeks blush. It had been bad enough when Naruto was just…kissing him there but--

"You'll rape me, then?" Sasuke asked, no emotion betrayed in his voice except casual, academic interest. 

Naruto hadn't done it before.  That wasn't what he wanted.  He could have done it before, done it anytime he wanted and they both knew he could have and Sasuke really _had_ been helpless to stop him but he hadn't.  Naruto had made a point of not doing it.  He wouldn't want it now, wouldn't do it now.  No.  That wouldn't make sense.

Sasuke waits.  

He wonders behind the thick wall of his mind if this was really what he came here for.

Naruto hesitated on answering, something strange and foreign wavering in his eyes, and finally shrugged.  His voice was flat.

"Sure, why not? I'm a demon, remember? Raping is part of what I do."

Sasuke filed this away. Even through the mask, Naruto could still feel the disappointment trickling from him, and his grin faded.  For a moment there's a smidgen of a familiar teen in front of Sasuke's eyes, sober and pensive.  It doesn't pass, but it doesn't stop Naruto from leaning down to kiss his breast, hard and round beneath his hand and mildly surprised when it isn't there anymore, only his hand on Sasuke's flat male chest, lily white and lanky.  

Sasuke isn't fighting him.  He isn't yelling, isn't trying to kick or bite him, and that should have made Naruto wonder more than he did, but the sight of the nearly naked Sasuke Uchiha underneath him makes him a little woozy.  The coldness in his head makes him loose his footing, and the temptation under him keeps him from looking for it.

"You know I'll fight you," Sasuke states.

Naruto's smile returned, and he replied, "Yeah, I know," he whispered softly, and God Sasuke _was_ handsome when he was mad, _especially_ when he couldn't kick or hit or bite or throw anything or stab anymore iron in him, "But I'm still going to take you…Unless you change your mind.  I'd like it _lots_ if you changed your mind."

Naruto's eyes were hopeful, and his smile faint and slightly innocent. Innocent enough to seem endearing.  Sasuke snorted cynically, eyes so cold they nearly burned.  Despite everything, Naruto couldn't help being a little unnerved.  

He had found Sasuke again, and he hadn't even been looking for him.  He hadn't planned on meeting him again this early, much less this way.  And even though Sasuke was still…not friendly with him, he wasn't exploding with hatred either.  He was being much too relaxed, too comfortable even with his hands tied up behind him.  And Naruto couldn't be sure if this was a trap or not.

"For you?  Forget it. I won't."

Naruto kept his face impassive a while longer, before smiling and blowing a kiss in Sasuke's face. He waited for a reaction. Then he just watched Sasuke closely, the grin easing from his face and nodded silently, not agreeing to anything.

//_He's playing…he doesn't mean it.  He doesn't.  He's just playing, teasing me again to see how far I'll believe him.  He doesn't mean it._//

//_He can't mean it._//

Reaching under Sasuke, Naruto untied the obi, and tested it between his hands before pushing his kimono away, eyes trailing down Sasuke's body in somber appreciation while his fingers glided along his waist, raising bumps on Sasuke's skin. Girls' clothes--whore clothes--on Sasuke looked strange, kinky, because although Sasuke had always been refined and darkly beautiful, he had too much muscle, too many angles and not enough softness to be taken for a girl. The combination of softness and muscle clashed. But that was all right. Naruto could flow with kinky.

//_And if he does mean it?  …then what?//_

_//What was I thinking?  What _am_ I thinking?  This…maybe because its daylight.  The sharpness only comes when night falls._//

He wrapped the obi around Sasuke's eyes, slightly surprised when he didn't resist though perhaps he shouldn't have been. Then he reached up, eyes still sharp on Sasuke in case he decided to make things interesting, grabbed a pillow and pushed it under him, so his weight wasn't too heavy on his arms.  As silently as possible, he slips on the silver bracelet that he stuck in his pocket earlier.  

//_He means it._//

Sasuke made a point of keeping his breathing steady; he was blind, bound, and nearly naked with a demon hovering above him, just watching his body speculatively. Air wafted over his bare skin, and he could feel the heat Naruto's body was emanating because they were so close together. He had no idea what was going on. He had no idea what was going to happen, or what to expect. 

If Sasuke was afraid, he wasn't allowing himself to feel it, much less show it. He was fairly sure Naruto wouldn't kill him, though he might try to hurt him, humiliate him. If Naruto hadn't killed him after all this time, he wasn't going to start now. 

Still…being helpless before the demon Nine Tails was not a happy thought. It hadn't been the castle. It wasn't now.

He wasn't even struggling to get away. The cord was thin and tight, biting into his wrists, so the more he struggled against it the deeper it would bite, until it was coated in sticky and rough blood that would make it even harder to slip off. He couldn't easily perform any jutsus lying on his fingers, with most of his weight on them, and Naruto would feel his chakra flow if he tried.  The demon chakra pushing him down didn't allow for any amazing acrobatics…  

Still…it bothered Sasuke in a detached manner that he wasn't trying to get away. That he wasn't fighting.  That he wasn't afraid, that he wasn't angry.  

//_Oh well._//

_//The fox was probably telling the truth about screaming,//_ he thought, _//but if I scream loud enough…//_

A hand gripped his chin so he couldn't move his head, fingers stroking through his hair. The action must have pleased him, because he ran his fingers along Sasuke's skull and down to the tips of his hair over and over again.

_::Nobody will come. My word carries more weight here than yours here, Sasuke-kun.::_

Sasuke's muscles tensed unintentionally, absolutely not flinching when something rough and warm and wet stroked over his cheek, and silently held his ground. That funny glimmer in his mind, like a dull yellow taste in the back of his throat…

_//…So this is how you do it. The mind speech…//_

Sasuke made a mental note, filling it away for later use.  Strangely, it didn't bother him that he was being touched.  He, who reacted lethally to a tap on his arm, didn't have a problem with being groped and caressed by the creature that came close to replacing his Itachi.  Sasuke wonders at himself without caring.

Naruto, for his part, is too wrapped up with the idea of finally having Sasuke in bed—even if he can't call it his—nearly naked and not fighting him, actually being _relaxed_ with him.  It was like a dream come true, and he has no _idea_ how it happened but he's _damn_ jolly it has.

He nibbled down his throat, kissing and suckling the skin between his lips, his breath breaking soft and warm like salt water against Sasuke's ear. He nudged the bridge of his nose under Sasuke's jaw-line, pressing into him, both of them missing the significance of the gesture completely; Sasuke pushing it off to Naruto being Naruto, and Naruto doing it because it felt right.

_//…You don't want to do this.//_

Naruto chuckled darkly in his throat, mouthing the junction of Sasuke's neck and shoulder, sucking his skin in between his teeth and gently holding it there.  When he scrapes his teeth, he can feel Sasuke inhale just a _little_ more than he usually does, and Naruto grins with satisfaction.

::_Don't sound too sure of yourself there, darling.  But yes, actually I do. I know what I want.::_

Sasuke flinched despite his best efforts when Naruto bit down, pain blossoming out slowly along his blushing neck--the blush caused mostly by shock--his breathing hitching and a muffled curse caged inside his throat. He tried to blink against the blind, and failed.  He still isn't afraid, he's surprised to note.  

::_And I've wanted this for a while.  And I think, maybe…you have too_.::

Sasuke turned his head away to the side towards the wall impassively, not having quite the strength necessary to stay attentive while Naruto was…getting ready. He'd just ignore it. He'd just ignore it all, be an impassive and unparticipating objective watcher. He knew his cheeks were flushed.  He hated that, but couldn't stop it either.  

_::I mean, why else would you be here?  _Here_?  Why else would you come to me angel?::_

_//I'm here to kill you.//_

_::Really?  Gee golly, and with your hands tied behind your back and everything?  …You came back to me--I knew you would.  You're mine…you're finally _**mine**_.::_

When Naruto licked his ear idly he exhaled too quickly, squirmed his shoulders and turned his head to the side, trying to get away but actually opening his sensitive area more, which Naruto took full advantage of.

He gasped softly in the back of his throat as he ear was taken into a mouth that was entirely too hot, entirely too gentle, and teased with gentle teeth and a tongue entirely too clever and invasive and ticklish. A brighter blush bloomed along his expanse of neck with the feelings, in humiliation and pleasure. His teeth were clenched together, and his control had a strangle hold on his throat. 

Had this happened to him before in the darkness, in the stone prison?  …He doesn't remember.  Things happened, but so much that it's a tangle to get them all out.  He kind of remembers feeling this way before, feeling the familiar crunch in his stomach, and he isn't afraid.

He wished fervently, belatedly, that there _was_ someone else there in the room with them. Even if they wouldn't help him or do anything it would give him something to concentrate on, something to take his mind off the thick sensations Naruto was causing his body to wrack up.  At least this wouldn't feel so…personal.  

_//He's done this before.//_

_::Yes.::_

_//You've done this to _me_ before.//_

_::Yes.::_

He was never sure exactly when he closed his eyes, but he would always remember how he cried out in frustration and confusion, a tiny sound of "ehh", so soft it wouldn't have been heard if no one was listening for it, and turned his head away from Naruto's mouth and curled into his shoulder and the bed, never realizing consciously how very kittenish he was acting.  His skin was flushed and warm—warm!  He was actually _warm_—and he felt a little sick in his throat and his stomach ached.  

One of the unbelievable things about Sasuke Uchiha is that he has no idea how to flirt, how to attract attention; it's something he does naturally without trying.  It's the honesty in his movements; he does what he does because he wants to, because he needs to.  His body reacts, and until he decides to control it (which is often), it reacts honestly with what it feels.

Naruto grinned like he hadn't before, like Sasuke hadn't seen him since they were kids and he didn't see now with his eyes closed, and felt his other ear and cheekbones nibbled and touched all the more gently.

Naruto was fanning the fires without adding wood, without adding any fuel or substance, just teasing and leading along without actually doing anything.

_Sasuke knew something was happening, he knew at once that he hated it.  But since he didn't know what it was or how it was happening, he didn't know how to stop it.  He exhaled noisily through his nose, trying to control his first impulse that involved a lot of force and violence in yet undetermined ways.**_

Fingertips, just the bare fingertips, danced the flamenco on his collarbone and chest, diving and sliding into all the nooks and crannies and lightly scratching burning hot trails over the flat hard planes.  He rubs his nipples with his thumbs, and Sasuke flinches.  Supple wet satin licks at his lips, sucking on the bottom one and caressing it fully, and Sasuke trembles minutely, gently.  

In his mind, Sasuke swore.  Not in language or anything either of them would realize, but the sentiment was still there and very strong, words not encompassing it.  He isn't afraid.  He isn't afraid, but his stomach feels warm, nearly full but hungrier than ever.  He doesn't understand it, he doesn't like it, but since he doesn't understand it he can't fight it.  Dry, slightly chapped full lips tickle his ear before speaking softly aloud. 

"Sasuke…angel…it's only rape if you don't want it."

Burning hands roamed over him gently, touching his skin and caressing him like he meant it.  Blind, working on sound and smell and touch alone, he trembles a little when he feels warmth blanket him as Naruto lays flush on top of him still clothed against his own naked skin, bumping his hips lightly into his and Sasuke feels himself flush yet again and twitch, sweat breaking out in super-thin film over his scalp.  He can't help it—he is affected, and his body betrays him.  For all that, Sasuke stays silent.

Sasuke said nothing.  Sasuke thought nothing.  

//_He's really going to do it._//  

Then finally his mind screamed.

//_NO!_//

"I think so, yes."

"Stop it."

He hated his voice.  It didn't even sound like him.

Pale orange fire kissed the corner of his jaw gently, lovingly, both of them missing the significance yet again.  Again, the bottom of Naruto's nose nudges the edge of his chin, before nibbling on it softly, and neither realizes what it really means.

Naruto's hands slipped lower.

"No…no not this time, angel…" 

Sasuke inhaled evenly when thumbs slid down his stomach, his sides rubbed in Naruto's palms, tracing over his hips and down across his thighs.  It misses his groin for now, but he's not stupid enough to think that'll last.  It's hard not to squirm, not to wriggle away.  He _wants_ away; he does.  He just isn't doing it.

//_Damn it.  Damn it all.//_

_//Not this.//_

_::Yes.::_

_//…don't.  You don't--//_

"Why wouldn't I Sasuke, huh?" Naruto asked angrily.  

After all this time, his own _body_ saying what he wanted and what he didn't and the damn straight perfect _soldier_ _drone_ just couldn't accept the obvious!  "Why the hell _wouldn't_ I?  I think I _do_, so just give me a straight reason or shut up!"

His mind goes silent and Naruto narrows his eyes, Sasuke's mouth and visible body giving no indication of what he was thinking.  That was the gun shot Sasuke had been waiting for, and it hit the mark perfectly.  He slips the mask on flawlessly; so smoothly that neither realizes he's done it.  In his mind he turns his back on the wall without a sound and closes his eyes in defeat.  So…

…he wasn't coming back after all.  No.  No.  _//No.//_

Things came in threes.

Finally, he turns his head to the side, ignoring the fox. 

There are many things Naruto can stand; many things he's endured.  Criticism, condemnation, as long as it meant someone was paying attention to him* was okay.  He can't stand to be ignored.  He just can't stand it.  And Sasuke knows him too well, well enough that he knows exactly the one thing Naruto can't stand.

Naruto feels his teeth lengthen, feels the anger start to burn in his hands and lips aching and isn't startled when a growl starts to vibrate in his throat.  Sasuke does it on purpose, did it because he knew the reaction it would get out of him and there isn't—

He yanked him up and shoved his tongue in his mouth, kissing hard and badly, roughly.  Frustration grows: Sasuke won't unclench his teeth, so Naruto applies pressure (too much) to the hinge of his jaw, and his teeth part reluctantly.  He expects to be bitten, but he sticks his tongue in anyway, and is surprised when he isn't.  Sasuke isn't resisting him, isn't fighting.  He lays limp, cold, waiting and learning.  Naruto dropped him.

//_Why not take this blind-fold off?//_

_::You're mine, I'll do what I want.::_

_//What are you afraid I'll see?_//

"I'm not afraid of anything!  Asshole!" Naruto yells in his face, and he doesn't wiggle.  He isn't afraid.  He's talking to him, talking _back_ to him, and it isn't _working_.  "You don't get a say Sasuke, get it through your stupid head.  …I've got the power, I'm in charge."

Sasuke has his own nearly-smile.  It haunts his lips, and Naruto snarls.

It should have worked.  It really should have worked.  

With a little psychology and a little force, it wasn't impossible for prisoners to become emotionally attached, even dependent, on their captors.  It'd been done before; it'd been done _lots_ of times before.  That's why returned prisoners were always quarantined for years at times, in case the enemy had managed to turn the agents to _their_ side and the agent was now a spy for the enemy.  It wasn't unheard of; it sure wasn't impossible, and Naruto was _good_ at doing the impossible.  He was real good at it.

But Sasuke had fought back.  Sasuke had fought back and resisted, and Naruto had lost.  But now…now here he was again.  Naruto doesn't know if he's losing now or not.

When he shoves his tongue in his mouth again, it doesn't hurt as much, and Sasuke doesn't lock his jaw.  He feels a heavy warm exhalation against his cheek, and he keeps his body slack, relaxed.  

Whatever.  Whatever.  He doesn't care.  Might as well see what the big deal was, what the hell the fox was raving on about and what was so very precious that he wanted from him, that he hurt him and tortured him for so long.  That he took his friend away, turned into something unnatural.  Might was well see.

This kiss doesn't hurt: it feels kind of nice.  Hands tilt Sasuke's head to find a better angle for the mouth sucking hungrily at his lips while his tongue is still a bit too thick, later trailing down his neck, licking at his collarbone.  It doesn't hurt.  It's not bad.  Lips suck at his shoulder; teeth graze over the skin enough to create goosebumps and a shiver down his spine.  Because as damnable as the fox was…he still had Naruto's hands, still small and rough, still had Naruto's lips, generous and laughing.

He can feel the fox smirking from his response.  Demon hands are warm and gentle, relaxing him further, trying to get further reactions from him.

The fox knows what he's doing; he's probably done it a thousand times before.  Sasuke's had sex once before with a woman during a mission; he took information from her notebooks while she slept afterwards.  He thinks he did pretty well for his first time; she smiled at him in the morning, clung to him later on, and got really upset when he left and even more upset when she realized what he had taken from her.  That meant he was good at it, right?  

There's warmth under his skin, burning embers along the sides of his neck and a coiling in his stomach, warmth along his legs.  His toes are cold and his ears are red.  The air is cool and he can feel it everywhere, because his kimono has been pushed back to his tied hands.  Sasuke doesn't nearly-smile, doesn't think.  He just learns.

For his part, Naruto's trying to go slow.  It isn't hard; it might've been better if Sasuke was fighting or insulting him in his head.  It doesn't even feel like he's touching Sasuke; it's a perfect body, but it's empty.  He's trying to go slow, trying to wake up the fire that he knows is there, the fire he's always been attracted to and infuriated by, the incessant strength that fuels Sasuke Uchiha.  He can't find it, can't feel it, so he just goes through the motions, sure that it'll show up sooner or later, and when it does he'll be waiting and ready.

For now he's licking his stomach, pressing his tongue into Sasuke's navel to see if that gets a reaction, because that can feel sort of tingly at times; he doesn't want to go into Sasuke's mind, talk him through that way.  He's done that before, and he wants to do this without magic, without the damned fox's help.  Naruto wants to do it—make him want him—on his own.  

Naruto's breathing is faster, and his stomach is ricocheting and churning with acid.  He's wanted this so bad that he isn't thinking, and even though he said lots of things, he's never forced anyone this way.  He's done lots of bad things, but he's never forced anyone to this: he's never had to.  

It doesn't feel like he's forcing Sasuke though; it doesn't feel like rape.  

Being the Demon King has taught Naruto a lot of things about the occult that he might not have learned otherwise, and one of those things—two of those things, actually—are necromancy and necrophilia.  The second word keeps on creeping on the back of his mind, and he feels a little sick and mistakes it for eagerness.

Sasuke keeps his eyes closed and his ears open.  He hears himself gasp when Naruto touches him, hears his breathing speed up and feels films of sweat collect in his hair and down his back, over his nipples still burning and hard from the fox's mouth and fingers.  He can feel his mouth, hot and wet swallowing him tightly, feel his fingers stroking and invading him, and his body trembles on its own.  There's a burning, growing, growing, and then a volcano.  

Sasuke lays silent again, and watches and waits.  His ankles are untied, and rubbed to relieve the pain (sting, warmth, comfort), and he can feel eyes watching him suspiciously.  He doesn't move, doesn't attack.  His breath comes back to him and his heart stops racing.

He's still hungry.  Still hungry for that thing no one else can give him.

He isn't fighting.  

He thinks he knows why now.

He's poked and prodded, and thankful that he can't see after all.  It's so much easier to be someone else, to hide behind the mask of chilly white superiority, when one's eyes are closed.  If he could see the fox doing what he's doing to him, see the fox with _that_ face and _those_ eyes that are still crystal blue after the rains have come, he might actually feel something, might actually hurt.  

As it is, things are happening to his body that don't particularly pain him, and his body is reacting in ways that Sasuke doesn't take responsibility for.  There's a zipping, rustling sound as the fox takes off his clothes.  There's movement, and momentary detached pain.  Sasuke waits, feeling the bed underneath him bouncing a little and his own body trembling, sweating, jumping at times and twisting unexpectedly, surprising him.  

He starts to panic when he feels sound trying to come out of his mouth, and for a minute he's torn between clenching his jaw and just letting whatever would happen, happen.  After a minute, intense thrumming and warm ticklish sensations coming from his spine and lower body as every inch of his skin is sensitive to the slightest whiff of air and lightest brush of fingers or lips, he lets the sound go out of his mouth.  

He recognizes the sound; he's heard it before in the shower when he was much younger, before the fire, before his idiot friend left the village.  He used to like that sound, hearing it from his lips as his heart raced and legs trembled while he touched and kissed himself in the shower, masturbating to a fantasy he'd never give name to.  It was a nice sound; it still was.  It just…didn't belong to him.  He wasn't responsible for it, it was an accident, and so he gets no pleasure from hearing it like he had before. 

There's sound, but no feeling.

There's touch, but no contact.

It's over.

He can hear heavy breathing next to his ear, warm and humid against his sweaty neck and hair brushing his neck.  He's warm and sweaty, and his breathing comes by almost labored.  They're both like that.  Sasuke ponders absently, and waits, feeling tired kisses timidly touch along his jaw—almost desperately—before feeling fingers brush back his wet hair again, and lips press at his mouth almost apologetically, shyly nearly.  He doesn't like this kiss, he realizes.  He liked it better when it was hard, uncaring.  This kiss, this kiss against his lips now…

He wants to kiss back.

Fingers start to pull the ribbon off his eyes, and he panics.  

"Don't!" he snaps too quickly, realizing late that might be exactly what the fox was looking for.  "Please," he murmurs softly instead, hoping that the show of submissiveness might work in his favor.  Hopefully.  He keeps his eyes shut instead, just in case, and for the first time feels the warm adrenaline returning to his fingers as they woke up, his arms sore from lying on them.

The blind is left in place, and he's tempted to thank the fox, but decides not to overplay his cards.  Fingers caress down the side of his face, lips touch his own again softly and he winces as he doesn't kiss back because he really wants to.

//_After everything you've done…_//

It feels familiar.  It feels _so_ familiar because even though Sasuke and Naruto were never really friends most of times and never more than the best of friends at the best of times…Sasuke Uchiha never told anyone that he's been kissed twice.  That he's kissed someone else when he was 14 years old.

Everyone saw his first kiss at 12 years unfortunately, but he's never told anyone that he's kissed someone else later on of his own free will and desire, that there was someone else in his life that he intensely needed to touch and be close to.  That he wanted to touch, wanted to smile with and laugh at, wanted to kiss and take care of.  He did all those things, but it was always under the table, where he didn't have to take responsibility for it and only a few people guessed what he might've wanted, what he was really doing.

Kakashi Hatake guessed, but thanks to the stars above he never _did_ anything about it.

//_After everything you've done… I still have to fight._//

He's sure the fox has heard him, but there's no voice inside his head, no tawny burning presence lighting up the darkness of his mind.  And for that he's thankful.  

He is turned gently and pulled into a real embrace, cradled in strong arms, the top of the fox's cheek pressed against his forehead, sharing the same air with one leg possessively thrown over Sasuke and their bodies pressed close together.  He's warm and he's comfortable.  It didn't hurt—he had been so damned _sure_ it would—and his body is tingling, coming down dazed and drunk.

Sasuke's throat tightens.

He hates himself.  He really does.  Sometimes—most of the time—he's sure he's his own worse enemy, because even though the fox tried with all his power he could never make him feel anything he didn't want to.  No one can.  No one can make him do _anything_ he doesn't want to, feel _anything_ he doesn't want to, except for his number one enemy, Sasuke Uchiha.  

He feels safe.

Sasuke flinches, and he feels the body beside him wake up enough to inspect him, to see if he was okay.  He's not okay, and the fox can't fix him.  He wouldn't let him if he could.  And cursing himself every step of the way, he lets his body do what it wants because it hurts too much to keep it to his will, and he's been hurting too much for too long already.

Sasuke kisses the edge of the jaw lightly, not much.  It's so close to him that he doesn't even have to move his head, just exercise his lips a little and touch it.  The skin's a little bit sticky, and very warm.  Or maybe because Sasuke's so cold, it just seems warm to him.  Maybe it really isn't.  He doesn't know.  

His body tingles all over and he swallows hard, his tongue coming out despite everything he's thinking and touching the skin, warm and salty and his lips follow too quickly, closing over the skin and finding that it really was as sweet as he always dreamed, really was soft and wonderful as he'd knew it'd be.  He exhales heavily before pulling away in shame, his head hurting and his tongue tingling, singing exuberant and dancing a wild stampede in his mouth.  

A hand touches him lightly, nearly shyly, and Sasuke sits with rapid jerk.  That was too inviting; this was far too close.  He keeps his back away from the fox and he has to turn his head away too.  There's a hesitant touch on his thigh, but thankfully no words; the fox doesn't sit up next to him, but is watching his every breath.  His hands are clenching each other inside the crumpled kimono so hard that it hurts, but not as much as his chest is hurting him.  

He's cursing himself hard, hating himself hard, because despite everything that he's done to him, everything that he's lost and the pain and sorrow he's watched in others and felt their hurt and pain, if Naruto really did open his arms and kiss him gently again…

Damn it.  

He wouldn't even fight the second time.  He'd _let_ him.  He'd let him and he'd _enjoy_ it the way he did the very first time, the very first time when he thought it was a dream because Naruto would never dream of touching him that way.  Making him feel that way.  Never.  If he really invited him in, really took him in and at least gave him the _illusion_ of security, the _illusion_ of independence, the Sasuke would run into his arms like the first time when Naruto sat him on his lap and made love to him in his castle.

If the fox had pulled this earlier, had pulled it in the castle when he was really under his power…damn.  

Sasuke realizes he would have crumbled.  Would have buckled under.  

He realizes what the fox wants from him.

His body reacts.

His hands had come untied a long time earlier, back when Naruto was sucking and stroking him, and they've been free all that time.  He just hadn't pulled them out because he hadn't had a reason to before.

Some of the magic folk—the demons, the fair folk, and the nightwalkers—can sense iron, because it's a blind spot in their vision.  It's like people seeing darkness—you can't actually _see_ the shadows, but you know they're there because there's no color, no shape, so if there's just a shapeless dark spot then that has to be a shadow.  Well, that's how magic folk see iron.  There's nothing there, so they know its iron.  

But in his time specializing in hunting them and killing them, Sasuke Uchiha has learned a very interesting thing.  Some can sense iron, but _none_ can sense silver.  And silver can hurt them almost as much as iron can.

Smooth as water, he drew the silver blade across in deep.  He didn't take off the blindfold because he didn't want to see and he didn't have to; he knew where the fox's neck was.  The blade had been hidden in the folds of his robe; the iron had been a diversion, and that had worked.  The fox had never bothered to check; foolishly, thoughtlessly.

Warm wetness fell across his hand, and the fox's hand clamped over his own and he could feel that he was trying to get away, but he didn't have a chance.  Sasuke always killed what he went after; that's why he was in such a high demand.  He held on until it went still-cold.

Then it was done, and Sasuke slipped off the bed, walking around it silently to the door, only pausing once.  He took off the blindfold, and risked a quick look.

Black met blue.

His eyes widened, and then…

And then…

Sasuke Uchiha walked out, naked and hands bloody.  He'd question what he did later on, spend the rest of the next night and day wandering and chasing his tail, but two things kept him from ever doubting himself.

The next night, in Kakashi's bed, he slept after he showered.  When the sun rose he wasn't hungry anymore. 

***

*The best you could ever hope for was attention, not love…only by getting into trouble…And you didn't care.  You were willing to accept any criticism, any condemnation as long as it meant someone was paying attention to you.

--Iruka, _Naruto_ vol.1

_Sasuke knew something was happening, he knew at once that he hated it.  But since he didn't know what it was or how it was happening, he didn't know how to stop it.  He exhaled noisily through his nose, trying to control his first impulse that involved a lot of force and violence in yet undetermined ways._

--Vignette, Ch. 3

Er.  Note.  The next chapter won't be coming out for a while, because it takes me a while to shift characters.  I focused on Naruto in the beginning, lately Sasuke, and now I'm gonna have to focus on Naruto again so that's gonna take some time in my head.  Criticism appreciated.

Welcome to the middle.  


	12. II: Hang

A/N: I have no idea if Yashamura is a girl or guy.  I completely mangled the timeline—I'm more worried about messing up Kakashi's character.  Beware!  Shifts in scene!

***

Standard Disclaimer Applies at All Times

Attraction 

by gelfling 

gelfling8604@yahoo.com

//_Thoughts//_

_::Invading Thoughts_::

***

Innocence, once lost, can never be regained.

--Lucifer, _Sandman: Seasons of Mist_, Neil Gaiman

In the arms of the angel, may you find some comfort here.

--Sarah McLaughlin, _Angel_

"It's uncanny how many problems you can solve with duct tape."

"Sometimes I use it for underwear."

--Dilbert and Wally, _Dilbert_, Scott Adams

There's on at the door,

At the gate to damnation…

Is it thief, thug or whore?

There's one at the door…

And there's room for one more till the end of creation.

--Lord Squatterbloat, Sandman comics, Neil Gaiman

I fell out of my chair. This might take a while.

--Anon. 

***

Flashback:  

_"What?  You gained what?  Go ahead, shock me, thrill me," Gaara got uncomfortably close to Naruto's face, shades of yellow flickering in his eyes in Naruto's bedroom of the stone castle-fortress.  "Tell me why the _fuck_ I should stick around!"_

_His eyes widened not with fear but with warning; Naruto waited until he settled back down.  His bed sheets were mussed under his hand; he always went to Gaara, it was rare for the Tanuki to seek _any_one out, much less actually look for _him_.  Gaara was cranky, moody, and it wasn't anything new to Naruto.  He always got over it eventually.  When he got into his moods it was better just to steer clear away.  He'd been moodier lately, even more so than when Sasuke _and_ Sakura had been here; now it was just Sasuke and he was nastier if possible.  And now Naruto knew for sure that there was no stick shoved up his ass; Gaara was just like this naturally.  _

_"What the hell got into you?" he asked mildly, ignoring Gaara's own question._

_With uncanny speed Gaara slipped back, his face cold and nearly pitying.  It was always weird to watch his face reflect emotion, and now was no different._

_"You should know.  Hell's own spawn is in me," and he hesitated, as if deciding if he should continue or let it lie.  He let it lie, because that was true.  Hell's own spawn was in him, but it wasn't in Naruto anymore.  Not really._  

***

"Kakashi."

"What's up?" the silver-haired shinobi quips without looking up at him, still scribbling something by lamplight in his inn room even though it had to be past midnight.  Sasuke paused.  

"I…I need another."

"Another what?"

Sasuke made vague signals in the air with his hands, gesturing to his hair.  He's somewhat irritated Kakashi's being thoughtless again, but then that's normal for the lazy shinobi.  And he's sort of been working lately.  Kind of.  "Metal.  Head protector.  I…need a replacement."  

Kakashi nods—still without looking up—finishes writing whatever he was recording and gets up, favoring the limp in his left side.  He doesn't need his crutches anymore, but his left leg still pains him.

After Sasuke…_returned_, they've been able to move quicker; he's seen to it.  They're close to the coast, near enough that on still nights one could feel the breeze from the ocean over the city lights and stench even from their location on the outskirts of the metropolis.  They're far enough away from the west that they can stay longer in one place, can begin to take things out of boxes without worrying that they'll have to be packed again the next morning when they move out.  They've been here for a little over two weeks now.  Ino's had a chance to go shopping for clothes, and dragged Hinata with her.  Mission requests come in by the dozens now that they're easier to find, and Kakashi sighs at the complete lack of invisibility and tact.  

Surprisingly, Kakashi's room is rather cluttered for a Jounin shinobi, with cardboard boxes and folders full of medical papers and maps, research books the kind only very fanciful children have filled with stories about princess fairies and goblins stacked on the floor and hiding the table.  Bits and pieces of stories have been scratched out or underlined or have little post-it notes leafed between the pages.  

It was Kakashi who taught him about silver's invisibility and copper's medical abilities.  It was Kakashi who taught him how to hunt the trolls, that werewolves were immortal to everything except silver and incineration.  It was Kakashi who laughed at his scorn over elves and mermaids. 

"Why?  Think just 'cause they're cute they won't bite?  Just 'cos they're all cute and squishy?"

"Oversized rabbits and fish.  You want _me_ to hunt rabbits and fish for _how much_?"

"Oh, don't be such a sourpuss.  And you shouldn't be so quick to dismiss things you don't understand: that's the first step to screwing up the mission.  They're _all_ cute and stuff right before they snap your head off and mount it.  Charge in without a clue, and it's going to be messy digging you back out.  I don't want to have to; you should know better than that.  Here.  Book.  _Read_.  Good for you."  Sasuke was waved in the general direction of a bookcase while Kakashi continued to rummage.  Sasuke didn't budge an inch.

Its possible Kakashi learned everything just now; it's possible that he's known about metal's properties, the poison drug in elvish blood for ages.  He knew that mermaid's eyes matched the hypnotism of the Sharingan, that nothing could catch an elf in the woods and knew how to lure the creatures out.  Its possible Kakashi has known of the darkness longer than he's hinted.  It's not unbelievable; it would explain a lot.  While Sasuke was still in diapers and Itachi still the village's golden child, Kakashi had been out in the night fighting the things that invaded life now.  And Kakashi had been one of the best.  If not for his game leg, he would _be_ the best, but as matters stand he's not very mobile on the field, but a _godsend_ behind the scenes.

"You're not serious."

"_Read_.  Good for you."

"A mermaid?  Who wants _us_ to kill a _mermaid_?"

"They've been drowning fishermen in Yanaka all this month.  Seventeen bodies and counting."

"Had to have been—" _sharks_, he almost snaps.  Bloody mermaids, Kakashi actually wanted _him_ to…

But there had been too many attacks for sharks.  

"Animals only hunt as much as they need to; anything else would be a waste of energy.  Don't forget Sasuke: Mermaids are half human.  And you _know_—or at least you _should,_ by now—how very sweet humans can be."  

Kakashi stared at him, not glaring but intense and a bit hassled, like he was trying to see into his brain because Sasuke was being stubborn again.  Pushing him, and seeing how he'd react, treating him like a rookie student still exasperatingly ignorant about the simplest things.  Kakashi had stopped being super considerate a while back; now he treats him like he always did, like he was still Sasuke Uchiha of Konoha who lived in his Spartan apartment rather than live in the old rambling house of his family.  Like nothing had changed very much.  

Kakashi still reads his erotic novels when he can find the time, and even if hell was raining down on their heads he'd _still_ find the time to giggle like a boy reading his father's pornography while blood spattered overhead.  Ino doesn't flirt or yell at him anymore, though that sickeningly sweet tone is still in her voice whenever she says his name.  Shikamaru pretends to ignore him most of the time, noting every change in mood or routine Sasuke puts out.  Lee ogles that he's completely unbroken, that he's even _stronger_ than before and doesn't bother to hide his admiration or jealously; he still makes terrible jokes.  He ignores Hinata and Neji as much as possible; he's fairly successful.  

As for…well, it's not impossible Sasuke could help him.  He could tell him.  He could tell him, and maybe he'd stop hurting.  But…

That's far too intimate.  He _wants_ to help, but even _he_ needs some privacy.

With a slight weight in his movements, moving with more gravity than usual but no where near pompous or even formal, Kakashi retrieves his head protector—already made and set for him, just waiting for Sasuke to _ask_—from it's box and hands it to him with a certain amount of solemnity, right before telling him not to forget to get Neji a new pair of pants—it was getting embarrassing how nearly-naked Neji kept on coming back from missions.  

"It's his own fault he's so slow; not mine."  And it had only been _one_ incident, and when things were trying to tear one's head off one's pants are not important!  It hadn't been his fault, it'd been Hyuuga's!

Kakashi sighed.  Sasuke would _do_ what he asked, but now he was complaining too.  It's was just one of those things.

Sasuke gave him a dirty look before feeling the cool of the cloth slide against his forehead and knotted it behind his head.  It feels strange but familiar; like an itching over an old scar.  He hung around a while more as a way of saying thank you and goodbye without saying a word.  He's feels more comfortable talking to Kakashi more than anyone else, but he still doesn't trust him completely.  Sasuke _knows_ Kakashi doesn't trust completely either; he's not that naïve.  

He's Kakashi; the perverted old slacker that Sasuke knew would die for him, _cared_ about him without demanding much in return, who's sharper than Sasuke likes to contemplate and so absent-minded that Sasuke felt a distinct nerve in his eyebrow twitch every time he heard that awful excuse always preceded by, "Sorry I'm late, but I—" 

Still sometimes Sasuke forgot that, even now.  And he would remember why he shouldn't.

Sasuke asked once about Sakura.  If Kakashi knew anything.  

Kakashi had been walking away from him, about to go do something, and had stopped for a full second.  And Sasuke knew something was off.

He had turned around slowly, and underneath the good-natured laziness and aloof exterior Sasuke could see hints of the light-splitting sharp ninja who had killed before breakfast without hesitation or guilt or passion.  One of the few shinobi to allow themselves to truly become dispassionate killers—dispassionate, but never stupid.  Never thoughtless; he thought _real_ good, he just didn't have to care.  And Sasuke doesn't know if he should feel fear or jealousy.

"Don't know what happened to her," Kakashi clipped slowly, steadily drilling into his eyes without pain or hurry.  "Do you?"

_She's dead too. Out like a candle._

Sasuke stared back.  Then he dropped his eyes.

Kakashi began to turn away, and he opened his mouth without saying anything.  He noticed Kakashi waited, but he didn't know what to say.  What he wanted to say, what he wanted Kakashi to hear, what he wanted to be true.  What he really _knows_.  He hesitated.  He hesitates.

Kakashi left him there silently, and for a while Sasuke didn't move.

***

Winter was here.  But it used to be summer.  

Once it was autumn, with all the possibilities for reconciliation and understanding standing at their own individual door of destiny, each leading down a different path, the chance for fake laughter to bloom into real laughter almost too late, but only almost.  It wouldn't be too late.  It wouldn't have been too late.  It could've happened; it didn't have to be this way.  

It had been summer.

There are two boys hanging in midair, the darker one holding the lighter's ankle and seeming to hang from nothing.  They are twelve years old.  The darker hasn't gone away and betrayed the shit out of anyone yet.  The lighter is growing in leaps and bounds, but is still pretty stupid and affectionately impotent in most matters.  Konohagakure is a dull place where they hang their clothes up and drop into bed.  Their dreams aren't perfect, but they aren't bad.  They don't haunt them in the daylight; they just make them relieved to wake up.

It's not perfect, but it isn't bad.

Right now their both watching a courtship performed rather clumsily, and the lighter plasters his hands in front of his mouth to keep from laughing.

The willow trees are in bloom, faint spidery-white blossom mixing with larger late bloomers and dandelions, the sakura blossoms having come and gone already.  The air is heavy with pollen and sweat of the two boys as they practiced beating the shit out of one another without meaning to hurt the other…just give him a little something to think about, that was all.

Kiba Inuzuka is fumbling miserably in his attempt to ask Hinata Hyuuga out on a date—lunch!  Out for lunch!  Or…whatever she wanted!  It was on him, no problem, if she was, you know, like not doing anything like on, um…you know.  Later.  Or now.  If she wanted to hang out.  …He'd like to.

He isn't being clear, and the lighter is shaking with laughter so hard the tree shakes.  The darker isn't stuck to a thick branch, but rather a stem of dental-floss thickness tightly rigged with chakra to the bottom of his shoe, leading along the stem to a thicker stem to a thin branch to a thicker branch to the trunk itself—all strung together with chakra like a suspension bridge.

Hinata has no idea what Kiba-kun's asking.  His chakra jumps and he keeps on interrupting himself.  

When Kiba-kun finally starts to talk clearer, look her in the eye and was about to—

A shoe hit him in the head.  Hard.  Because Naruto didn't wanna use kunai or shuriken and there was nothing else, so he had let loose what he had, not caring that Kiba'll be able to track his scent and tear him apart because there were somethings he just _couldn't_ resist!

Sasuke dropped him on his head and conveniently walked out.  He didn't pay attention to the enraged war cries or squeals of amusement and pain that peal out of the woods, but something tugs at his lips.  It didn't happen often, this tugging, but…well, it happened often now.  It was …almost as interesting as it was frightening.

For one of the few times in his life, Sasuke Uchiha isn't scared of getting close to someone, because the dobe would never realize what he was doing anyway.  Wouldn't recognize the vulnerability, the disadvantages.  The dobe never noticed _anything_.  Still…best take these things slow.  

A smile tugs on his lips that taste faintly like miso ramen.

***

"So anyway, this druggist approached the customer who just lit a cigar and said, 'Hey, you can't smoke in here.' Right?"

"And then like, the customer gets ticked and blows smoke inta the store owner's face right?  And then he says, 'Like hell I can't!!  I just bought the damn thing here!' and it makes sense right?  Right, but then the druggist says…"

"Big deal. We sell condoms here too!"

Sasuke shook his head and slurped at his ramen that was _way_ too salty while his companion laughed his pants off for no real reason, nearly yipping like a dog in his throat, high-pitched and continuous in his throat.  But god, he _was_ getting sick of ramen.  There was a limit to how much a person could eat; Naruto would get high blood pressure before he hit 20.  Naruto had laughed.

The laughter quieted down and so did the slurping, a silence filled with things that couldn't be shoved into tidy letters and--in truth--didn't need to be settling over them like a flannel blanket.  They understood without saying.  This was much better than staying the night alone.  They are just past 14 years old.  

Naruto has problems sleeping, nightmares of lithesome trees and greasy blood and choking heat, the smell of smoke and yelling waking him up roughly, and Sasuke feels what it's like to be shunned for one's choices.  The Sound have come and the Sound have gone, and that's trust he'll never regain.  

Innocence, once lost, can never be regained.

Never regain…except from one person too stupid to lose it in the first place.  

It gets warmer at his side; they're sitting in a booth for once at the ramen shop Naruto never stops loving, Sasuke knowing better to sit at the counter because it gives the idiot a farther distance to fall when he loses consciousness.  He always does.  He always does when he's around Sasuke, not because he gets bored, but because he feels secure near him.  Sasuke doesn't know why; he's never given the dobe _any_ reason to feel that way around him…damn it all, he's tried to do the opposite.  Trust idiots to mess everything up.

The warmth gets stronger, sliding down his arm, and he deftly takes the chopsticks out of numb fingers, lifting his arm to do so and _greatly_ surprised when the warmth lands in his lap.  His eyes go wide but he doesn't react more, besides swiftly checking to see who was staring and who was whispering.

Not even the owner notices; it's too late for him to care as long as they're quiet, and the hour is so early in the coming morning that no one else is there.  

So Sasuke stiffly allows it for 10 minutes, before dragging the idiot home.

He doesn't give into the temptation of watching Naruto sleeping in his lap; he'd start regretting it hours later.  He wouldn't stop regretting it for years.  He wouldn't stop regretting it until he saw him again, decked out in red and black and grease.

The summer left.  It's winter now, and Sasuke's breath turns to ice.

It isn't warm anymore, anywhere.  He knows this.  He knew this.  

He doesn't sleep much now.

***

Pain.  Try not to come up.  It'll hurt.  

Vaguely there is a scream.  A woman's.  Then running and muffled voices.  Trouble hearing heartbeat.  A little worry.

Hands lightly feeling wrists, gently prodding neck.  There wasn't anymore screaming.  Time passed—not sure how much—then light went away, and so did sound.  It was cold.  

With a mental spiritual inaudible groan that came from the roots of his marrow, Naruto opened his eyes and woke up dumped nowhere in the cold night.  It hurt like _all_.

The knife had been _too_ sharp.

***

Gaara fondled the gun carefully, keeping care not to point it directly at his head.  He knew how to work it of course, so there wasn't much danger of it going off on accident.  Still…there was no point in tempting himself.

Knives were useless things, and swords were just long fancy butcher knives at their core.  They were interesting in a dull prehistoric way, but completely useless against him.  It didn't matter who's hands they were in; his would-be assassin or his own.  Ninjutsu just irritated his skin: like the chakra of flies tickling his eyelids, but it never hurt him.  Not even the seals.

He's stabbed himself a couple of times in the chest _years_ ago after screaming with his demon and fleeing the sand at his heels.  The darkness clung in globs to his back, hiding in every crevasse and pore and leaked out from behind his eyes, driving him mad.  The heart of the desert seemed to swallow him up, until he couldn't hear anything else but the crunch of the grain, the wind howling and the sniggering in his hair.  It was too quiet and too loud and too overwhelming, and--for lack of a better phrase--Gaara lost it.

He felt pain when the blade stuck in his chest, stared in some wonder as redness covered the shininess, felt his breathing stop and his blood slow, his body turning cold.

He remembered hitting the ground dimly and thinking, "This is it.  This is really _it_.  …Oh wow.  This is really it."  He wasn't afraid, though he was a little nervous.  Mostly he was surprised.

He hadn't seen Temari in months, nearly a year.  She'd been the last person that he had been near to without thinking about killing her.  He had avoided people, avoided everything and everyone and just tried to avoid the whole world for as long as he could.  At least the desert was good for that.  Nothing could be found in the desert, because there was nothing there but sand and sun and sky.  Nothing less, nothing more.  

His eyesight grew dim, turning fuzzy at the edges, and he waited for it to go black.  It'd go black eventually, and then he'd stop thinking (he'd stop thinking!  He could actually stop thinking!  That damned demon couldn't smile at him _now_!) and then he'd fall asleep forever and he wouldn't wake up.  He couldn't wake up; not for the curses and not for the scream and not for the mocking and not for the blood.  He'd go to sleep and he'd never wake up.  Never.

Gaara's eyes went wide as he watched with intense interest.

His eyesight fogged over more.

He was barely breathing now—there was a thirteen second lapse in between inhaling and exhaling, and the sand felt comfortably cold against his arm, which meant his body temperature was dropping even while he lay there thinking.  

As it sometimes comes during crisis, he noticed every little detail, how each grain of sand was a different shape and just a slightly different color, how every inch of the night sky was a different shade of navy blue and velvet black and deep purple, how very pure white the stars looked.  How very beautiful everything was.  

Had he been different, Gaara would have smiled.  He hadn't thought the world beautiful before.

And he had waited for his eyes to close.  

And waited.

…But perhaps they wouldn't.  Lots of people died with their eyes open, faces usually locked into a look of horror after meeting him.  Maybe he'd die with his eyes open too.

Silver grains spun gently around him, rolling over his fingers gently like a mother's caress or a funeral procession.  The knife left without him moving; sand clotted over the blade with his blood.  He clenched his eyes shut in frustration.  

Not even his death could be his.

_//…did you really think I'd let…//_

//_Shut up_.//

A couple weeks later, Naruto showed up looking beaten and scrawny and starved, and had smiled weakly at him.  Briefly, Gaara had considered kicking him around for no other reason that he was there and he'd last longer than the others.  Naruto offered to take him out for drink.  Naruto turned out to be flat broke.  Naruto wanted his help.

"Why should I?"

"Um…well, there's always power and fighting and stuff, but beyond that…uh, well, you're not doing anything too important for the next 3 years, are you?  I'm kinda hoping you'll say no…" Naruto smiled at him hopelessly.  Gaara stared.  

Back in the present and sitting on the rock out of doors, Gaara couldn't help noting that the night sky didn't look as pretty as it did on the night he was wanted to die.  The last he'd seen of Naruto the idiot had been gaping at his back, stupid and not knowing.  Not knowing anything.  Not knowing so much.

It wasn't that Naruto didn't care; he did, Gaara believed he did.  

His throat tightened and the bottom of his tongue pushed against his teeth.  He blinked.  

No, the problem wasn't Naruto, though it'd be nice if it was, and it kind of _was_.  It wasn't that Naruto didn't care; he did.  It just…wasn't enough.  Not what he wanted.  Not what he needed.  And Naruto didn't know that was what he wanted.  

Sex didn't mean anything to him, not like it meant to Gaara.  Naruto's stupidity had always been boundless when he wasn't thinking.  He cared.  Just not enough.  He didn't know.  Gaara couldn't say.  

He sighed, and put the gun in his pants. 

***

His clothes weren't sweaty, and the sheets weren't streaked with semen.  He wasn't doing much, just sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning on his elbows on his knees and staring at nothing, his posture a wreck.

It was quiet.

Behind his eyes, he still sees the flame whipping in the wind, hears the screams rising and falling and—worse of all, disappearing.  His skin blisters in the heat; it hurts to blink his eyes; his lungs won't stop shrinking.

There are two of them:

One sits across from Rock Lee, watching his breathing rise and fall gently, making sure that it never stops.  The cloud is breaking, letting in flitting storms and calm.

One sits alone in the dark.  

The dark is inside.  It won't go away.  

He did what he wanted to.  He didn't get what he wanted.

He fought like he should.  He doesn't feel at peace.  

He's carrying a tombstone too heavy for even him on his back; on top of his family cemetery, the graveyard of memories.  It's very heavy.

It hurts.

It won't go away.

He doesn't know why.

***

There was a knocking. 

On his door. 

It was loud. 

…And it was not going.  Away.

If Naruto had had the energy and mental skills necessary to swear, he would have. 

By degrees, he didn't so much get off his bed as _ooze_ off it, the slightly rank tangy smell of the sheets and room stirred for the first time in 17 hours with movement. Not really walking, but more like…falling with continued lateral motion, Naruto arrived at the door, not caring who was on the other side or if they wanted to kill him or kidnap him or (worse) demand rent money, slammed it open with a rattle of chain.

Gaara was on the other side.

//_….?_//

Slow motion, wait a sec, think back…wait for it…and…

//_…huh?_//

Naruto squinted slightly, before contending to just stare slightly frowning at him, half awake. Vaguely, he wondered if he was still dreaming. It was perfectly possible; he didn't dream so much anymore, but he still did dream. But…Gaara? On his…doorstep. Yeah.  Right.

Naruto blinked once, then slammed the door in Gaara's face.

//_Whatever_// Naruto thought.

On the other side, Gaara blinked, before tilting his head down.

Whatever.

Yeah.

Like who really…

…yeah.

Something started to crawl into his throat, around his lips.

There was a rattling of chain, and then the door swung back open. Naruto's arm shot out with deceptive speed in his sluggish state and gripped his sleeve. With equally deceptive but fragile strength, he pulled Gaara inside. Gaara went willingly. His other hand clutched a small nondescript jar of ointment.

Again, Naruto slammed the door shut.  He forgot to replace the chain or lock it.

Stale darkness ran back into the room, stained slightly with chilly second-hand light sliding out of the grime-covered window. With his hand still gripping Gaara's sleeve, Naruto took his time to actually peer at him, perhaps still surprised that Gaara was there alive and next to him--and not trying to strangle or sneer at him. Huh. How truly amazing. Indeed.

Nap time.

Naruto, lately, had been doing a lot of sleeping. A _lot_ of sleeping. Waking meant he had to do something, because if he didn't do something then he would start thinking, which would make him sad and angry. However, _doing_ something meant he had to find something to do, which required work, and work required thought to _find_ the work. Motivation. Needed that too.

Naruto was out of both.

Gaara's eyes weren't green, he decided. And his face still didn't scar. Not like his…  And his _haircut_ looked like he had got into a fight with an electric razor that ended in a stalemate, a sort of Bohemian crew cut. _Badly_. Damn artists.  What? …Oh yeah. His eyes weren't green. But they weren't blue either. Somewhere in between, blue green…sea gray…

Naruto broke eye contact sharply as sharply as he had started it, and abruptly staggered over to his rumpled bed, still gripping Gaara by his sleeve--perhaps absently, perhaps not. In any case, when he collapsed on the bed, Gaara followed him.

His legs were half-curled under him; muscles limp and heavy like rock, something deeper than fatigue running through them.  His eyes were shut, yet there were still…

Faintly, Gaara frowned.  There were lines under Naruto's eyes.  

He thought for a while, absently feeling out the atmosphere of the room, the state of the air and temperature, the state of the furniture and Naruto's personal belongings, of which there were very few.  Nearly nonexistent, in fact.  He looked down, and moved his foot.  He found a rather distressing sight.  

Naruto's duster, his trademark shiny red leather jacket that he absolutely adored was crumpled on the floor.  His special symbol of power.   

Gaara was quiet for a while, before saying, "Fuck," equally quietly to himself.

Then he climbed up on the bed, and carefully lifted up Naruto's head a little, and placed it in his lap.  The fox boy, frowned, grunted, before lapsing into inanimation again.  

Eyes that may have been green but then again may have been blue squinted in confusion then disbelieving horror.  Perversely—because Gaara could never be called squeamish—he traced the light paper-thin streak of skin that circled Naruto's tanned neck like a white tattoo collar.  Except that their skin _couldn't_ tattoo.  And it didn't scar…easily.

Gaara had no mark like that on his skin; not even the iron marks lasted long.  He never imagined he would see one on Naruto while the fox still breathed.  A mark like that…to get that…

_//…it should have killed him.//_

Something else on Naruto's neck caught his eye; a necklace of tanned leather hanging off him awkwardly.  Gaara pulled at it, scornfully half expecting to find a piece of blue cloth or leaf tied to the end of it, and his eyes widen instead.  It's a warped lump of glass, raw sand still locked in the center.

_"Wow, I didn't know we could do that…that's pretty cool." _

_"Kinda looks like a kitty, doesn't it? …Pretty kitty…" Naruto turned over so that he faced up at Gaara, pale blue eyes wide open and the little orb of glass completely forgotten. _

_ "Mrrroooww?" _

_This time Gaara kissed him, and Naruto giggled._

He put the necklace carefully back under Naruto's shirt.  The smaller boy was bonier, lighter; perhaps not weaker per se, but Gaara almost never saw him this still.  It was unnerving.  Gingerly, slowly, Gaara petted his hair, not completely sure if he was doing it right.  

The only one to really…touch him at all had been Naruto.  Neither Temari nor Kankuro had done it, but then they weren't really an affectionate family anyway.  Loyal, yes, but not physical, and no more affectionate than they had to be.  And even though…Yashamura…had been affectionate…she had never really touched him either.  Gaara wasn't sure anymore if that affection had been genuine or not.

Gaara had had a mother; in a way she was still with him.  He wouldn't say she loved him; he knew _he_ didn't love _her_.  He doubted she had, since she had cursed him for her own pride and sense of justice, kept him alive to do her dirty work beyond the grave.  But he had never really known human touch.  Just Naruto's.  He wasn't sure if he was doing this right or what.  He was rather nervous.

Naruto didn't move; didn't make any sound at all.  He was so…_vulnerable_.

Feeling slightly braver, Gaara combed his fingers through the dull yellow locks, pulling slightly, liking the way it felt.  Feeling even more slightly brave he leaned down…

He knew what he wanted.  

Lightly, he just brushed his lips against him, liking the way the texture touched him, tickled and was slightly rough, a little dry.  Not perfect, but that was what made it beautiful.  Then he went in deeper, the feeling more familiar all the time, more of what he was expecting and what he was used to.  Then he pulled away.

Naruto didn't wake up.

He tasted slightly sour; old saliva and Gaara could vaguely make out the taste of alcohol in the corners of his mouth.  

Gaara sighed quietly, and ran his fingers through his hair.

He could wait.  He could always wait.

***

"Oh…hey.  Oh.  Wow.  You're really here."

"…"

"I…  Um.  You're…okay right?  I mean…er."

"What?"

"Um…Wow.  You're really here.  I thought I was dreaming or…  Gaara?"

"What?"

"…why are you here?"

"Why not?  I can go anywhere I want.  Why?  Do you want me to leave?"

"No!  No, that wasn't what I…I mean it's just that…um.  Well.  It's…  You look nice."

"You look like shit."

"Heh.  Yeah, you're probably right.  Um…Gaara?"

"What?"

"You're not like gonna…I mean…  You don't have anywhere to be for a while, right?"

"I don't have any solid plans."

"Um.  Do you wanna…I don't know, maybe…  Do you wanna hang out with me a while?  I mean, if you want…  …  I'd like it.  If you're not doing anything."

"I'm not doing anything."

"Oh.  Okay.  That's good to know.  Um…"

"…"

"It's nice to see you again."

"…"

"Um."

"Come on.  You need a shower."

"But…I'm not sick, okay?  I'm fine, there's nothing wrong with me."

"I didn't say there was, stupid.  But you do stink.  And I could use a shower anyway…"

"Oh.  _Oh_.  Oh…  Okay, I'd like…I'd like that a _lot_…"

***

Far off in the long grass, the cold thick winter fog weighing down the leaves, Sasuke could make out the faint ribbon of disappearing-reappearing white ribbon of organic steam as Neji breathed warm air out into the night.  Because of the distance, he could barely hear the rustling of cloth and hair as Ino shifted high above in the trees; to something with a keen sense of hearing, she must have been making a riot.  She did it on purpose.

In the meadow itself, hemmed by imposing savages of trees that didn't talk in any language they understood, was a lone stereo stoically playing a Beethoven CD hidden by grass leaves. At the moment, _Immortal Beloved_ was trilling through the night as the piano keys rose and fell gracefully.

_"Don't underestimate them," Kakashi had said.  "Never underestimate what you don't understand."_

_"So what, we should just _overestimate_ them instead?" Ino asked annoyed._

_"No," he intoned exasperated.  God…_kids_.  He always got stuck with _kids_.  "You shouldn't expect _anything_.  Go in, look, listen, and do what you can.  Above all, make it all back alive.  The mission is secondary to that."  _

It went against shinobi code, but Kakashi Hatake dictating what was law now right in front of them triumphed over what was code _then _on some old scrolls written by dead people and burned to ash.  Not even Neji had a problem with it.

What was code then was then; this was now.  So they kept relatively close to each other, within seeing distance, and to the creatures they were supposed to hunt the three probably had huge target signs painted over them; elves could hear their heartbeats if it was still.  _But_…the music muffled their position somewhat while at the same time drawing them out.  Elves had a funny attraction to music; they liked it, they'd follow it, but it didn't make them dumb.  For as long as there was music, they'd stick around and let whoever was making it happen go on for as long as they could but once the music stopped that was it.

No steam rose from Sasuke's nose or rustling from his clothes.  He couldn't hear his heartbeat over the music, and then the volume went up by a few decibels.  Neji had the 360 vision and the remote controller; they were here.  Sasuke didn't twitch or open his eyes, and heard Ino become conspicuously quiet.  The elves would catch that, would know they were working as a team and already _knew_ why the shinobi were there---to do the same damn thing that ninja had been doing since the creation of the throwing star, and realize how much _they_ knew about the three ninja kids out in the dark woods _dazzled _next to how much _they_ knew of elves.  And their confidence would grow.

Elves had their own magic.  They had their own spells.  They saw humans the way humans saw slaves; pretty, useful, and expendable.  Generally quite dumb and weak.  

Sasuke still didn't open his eyes.  

They would go after Ino first; she was closest to them and in the trees themselves to top it all of with whipped cream and a red ribbon bow.  She was the most vulnerable.  Shikamaru had been counting they would look at it that way; he wasn't wrong.  There was a gasp and clash of metal above.

When she tumbled out of the tree gripping a bloodied arm, Sasuke was there to catch her, his eyes still closed.  Even through her dramatic wheezing, he could still hear the smile in her voice.  Even so, just for appearances, he continued to crouch over her and inspect her arm, head flitting from one side to the other.  There _was_ blood on her arm; it just wasn't her blood.  With the show they were silently putting on, the brave damsel hurt, the hero too absorbed with her to notice anything else, and the other guy obviously blind, hopefully the elves wouldn't notice the body that was slumped on the branches wasn't breathing anymore.

Neji's nearly-smile flitted as he saw them draw in close around them, chakra signatures bright and alien through the fog.  They strolled in carefully, attention 70% on the music box and 30% on the ninja, passing by Neji so silently he had to admit some awe.  There wasn't even a microscopic breeze when they passed; if not for the Byakugan, he wouldn't see them at all.  Still…a job was a job.  

Sasuke started to stand up, pulling Ino up too while she leaned a little _too_ heavily on his arm, heavier than he would have liked and gasping in pain louder than what was really necessary.  There were seven total; now six; that meant two each and maybe three for Ino, and they were standing pretty damn close to the stereo without giving them their backs sooo…

They weren't expecting iron.  Kunai, shuriken, and even doppelgangers and human speed but they weren't expecting iron or silver or the Sharingan or speed faster than even _their_ eyes could pick up or an attack that made their energy explode inside their skin.

About half a minute into a second song, a stone knife trimmed with copper thudded a few precious centimeters short of the stereo.  The music continued on.

Ninja and elves had fought often, and elves didn't forget well.  Still, a couple hundred years was a couple hundred years, and even if the memory is still fresh after all that time, they found they were fighting a different kind of ninja.  

At the end, the stereo was shut off.

They removed the heads, and burned the bodies discreetly after Neji had made an impromptu autopsy using his Byakugan resourcefully on one of the taller males and the lone female in a record time of fifteen minutes.  Ino kept her back to it; she wasn't sick, but her skin felt colder than usual and her stomach kept twisting.  It really stank.  They looked…well, they had looked nearly human; even _prettier_ than humans looked, except that elves were clearly animals.  

Their eyes—the size, the orange-brown coloration in the iris—weren't human, more akin to a fox or a cat, and the shape of their faces was off, and of course their ears were too big and they _did_ smell like animals.  Then there were their nails.  You wouldn't expect that to be a big point.  

Ino's nails were thin, polished and sometimes painted, and manicured when she could get it.  But their nails were _thick_, broken around the edges but clearly sharp and strong, dirt and bits stuck under them.  These weren't nails for showing off, these were nails for working _with_.  Ino had touched them, eerily expecting the thing to come back to life and attack her while Neji was absorbed with taking the body apart and Sasuke…did whatever it was Sasuke _did_, and looked into a face that filled her with fear and fascination.

He was, of course, handsome…in a very primal, old-fashioned sort of way.  His face was _clearly_ male, strikingly so, eyes glassed over in rigor mortis, yellow-brown with black slits for pupils, and bits of feather and bone braided through sable-silky hair.  He really was quite gorgeous; if he hadn't tried to kill her, Ino would have felt bad.  Still, the little signs of what he _was_ kept her from really feeling anything.  

He had canines like a dog's in his mouth, and he had the marble crest of the clan who had hired them on a leather thong around his neck; the pendant had belonged to the second-in-command's son.  He'd gone missing one night three weeks ago; missing from his bedroom without a clue.  He'd been six years old.  They had never found a body, and Ino realized that if there _was_ one than they weren't going to find it, and if there was then they wouldn't want to see it.  

The boy could be alive.  It wasn't likely.  

The elves and fairies were famous for stealing children in the night, but it was never said what they _did_ with them afterward; only that the children would never come back.  Some of the stories said they made them their slaves, other's that they adopted them.  But Kakashi had been reading a lot of fantasy (_not_ pornography for once) and stories said that elves were _also_ good wise creatures who lived in sophisticated palaces in harmony with nature and the world of man, and you know, it was funny, but he'd never seen a elf do anything more to a guy than hunt him and mount his head onna stake to signify where one clan's hunting territory ended and another began.  It was a funny world like that, Kakashi had said.  The mission was secondary to survival, and they were _not_ to forget that.

Sasuke finished stacking the bodies, and Neji finished taking notes, his hands and paper blood-soaked.  The fire was fast and concentrated, and it only lasted a few minutes.  Sasuke was looking into the trees again, so they left in a hurry, dragging him along without touching him.  The bloodlust was weak in him now, but it was still there.  As it was he had taken three elves on his own, and a fourth with Neji.  He was still…freakishly strong.

Ino carried the marble pendant, and presented it to the client's second-in-command.

He took it without a word.

The client himself inspected the heads, and protested when Kakashi refused to allow him to keep them.  He threatened to have them thrown out, and in his quiet, dispassionate way, Kakashi told him he could very well _try_…but the heads stayed with the ninja, and they were _going_ to get paid.  The client refused; no heads, no deal.

Ino had no idea what happened next, because at that time Kakashi's voice had dropped to the point where only the client could hear it; Neji appeared to be taking a nap, and Sasuke ignored everything and everyone.  The clan head went pale.

Somehow, they walked out of there overpaid and _with_ the heads sacked away more or less in a group.  Neji trailed behind, and Sasuke sort of walked…away without _going_ away.  He kept his distance still, after all this time, his mind somewhere Else _all_ the time, but managed to stay in calling distance.  

Back at the ramshackle inn they were beginning to call Base, Kakashi discreetly burned the remains.  

"But…I don't understand.  Why go through all that trouble if you weren't planning to keep them?"  
  


"It's not that I wanted them; I don't trust people with things they don't understand."

"The client?  But…why not?"

Kakashi hadn't answered immediately, and hadn't blinked.  "People do funny things with what they don't understand," Ino kept looking at him.  "There's a…thing about elfish blood…there's usually some biological _catch_ to the people we don't understand.  The catch with elves is that their blood is poison, but if properly prepared becomes an anti-poison and even a miracle potion for illnesses…even old age, it's rumored.  An elixir of life.  Elves don't age, if you didn't notice."

Ino stared.  "Immortality?"  Kakashi shrugged, his eye still focused on the fire.

She thought more.  "That's why you made us…wash our wounds…" Hinata had put ointment on their wounds, scouring them gently with alcohol first.  She never said what kind of ointment was.

Ino's eyes strayed to the fire counting the skulls she could see.  She had never questioned before what was in those ointments, or actually _looked_ at the books Hinata read sometimes despite all the time they spent together looking after Lee with his flagrant chivalry and out-of-date manners and to a small extent Iruka.  Hinata _did_ have a lot of books and scrolls neatly stacked in her room adjoining Lee's rather like Kakashi-sensei, and a million 'experimental' potions and powders she peacefully mixed and Ino had no idea what they were because nothing Hinata did could _ever_ be illegal.  Hinata was a Girl Scout with the sweetest, shyest smile she'd ever met.  She had never really questioned…

Kakashi didn't say anything for a long time, accurately judging how long it would take for the information to sink in.  "Don't worry about it.  We'll look after you."

"I wanna know more."

"Why?  Suppose I told you everything you want to know," Kakashi had looked at her, gray eye drooping.  "Would that make you feel better?"

She hesitated, and then rallied loudly  "Maybe!  I wouldn't know since you guys _never_—"

"You never asked.  But I'm sure Hinata would appreciate the help; she's more into the technical than I am and she's been overworked lately.  Just let her know and I'm sure she'll tell you everything you want to know…a friendly cup of tea wouldn't go amiss either."

Ino had stared for a long time at him, silent.  There had been a veiled rebuke in there somewhere; she had nearly forgotten about Hinata-chan and Iruka-sensei and Lee-kun with all the missions and Sasuke-kun.  She had forgotten; they were all they had now.  She should've…then she nodded her head.  

"Yes sensei."  Even though _Asuma_-sensei had been hers, not Kakashi.  She left him there with the fire, which eventually burned down to ash that was spread along the side of the inn, warningly.  Three days later, bright red flowers flared out of the ground that not even Hinata recognized.  

Unsurprisingly, the inn keeper had a 'talk' with Kakashi; he didn't _mind_ them, god knew they were quiet if just a little…odd, and kept the place safer than it had been in years, but this was…this was getting a bit strange.  He wanted…well, not to be rude or ungracious, and god knew that they had always paid on time but well; he had to ask them too—

Kakashi offered to buy the inn from him.  The innkeeper told him how much it was.  Kakashi offered double that.  

"You…you _have_ that?"

"Yes."

"You can really _pay_ that much, I mean I thought—"

"Yes, we can.  But if it's too much trouble then I'm sure we can always—"

"Wait, do you _really_ have that _much_?"

Kakashi had come close to smiling.  Greed and vanity: two of the best scalpels any man could ever ask for.

Yes, they did have that much, and they were willing to pay it…the only problem was that, well, they had no use for an inn.  They were ninja, after all, but if he would be willing then they could make deal, surely…

In the end, the innkeeper was 'given' an obscenely large amount of money; less than what Kakashi had originally offered.  The ninja were given free reign of the inn, to go wherever they wanted and do whatever they wanted to it provided they didn't upset the other customers, given half the living space of the building for their own uses _without_ question—at _all_--and the innkeeper still ran the domestic scheme.  Customers _flowed_ into a place more secure than an invisible fortress.

Kakashi sighed.  Fuck.  He hadn't really planned on settling down this quickly, or this _loudly_ but…well, that was life.

Sasuke still came to him at night when there were no missions.  He didn't roam anymore, not to the extent he had once, but he still came to him at night, refused to stay in his own room for too long.  In a night of no missions, of a lull in the danger, Ino annoyed Shikamaru as much as she could and they typically looked after each other, Hinata read nervously while Neji studied his bloodied notes and they looked grudgingly after each other, and Iruka kept bedside watch on Lee because there wasn't too much else to do and Lee had managed to get him talking normally again through sheer force of will, even managed to get a fake smile with one of his really _great_ jokes and they looked uncertainly after each other, and Sasuke kept silent vigil with Kakashi.  

They didn't talk.  Sometimes Kakashi would work at his desk, making notes or rereading the best make-out scenes in Icha Icha Paradise and realize that Sasuke had fallen asleep leaning on his wall.  Sometimes Sasuke dropped into his bed willingly, sometimes not.  Either way…he never did say what had happened to him.  

Didn't say why he could sleep at night now, or how his skin hadn't been burned.  Where he had been the last month.  He just didn't mention it, and Kakashi didn't ask.  When Sasuke was ready he'd talk, but not until then.  Anyway, he was getting restless, so he'd be ready to talk pretty damn soon.  Kakashi could wait.

***__

_The Dreaming.  Mirrors reflect.   The Dream Lake reflected blood and a face he hated._

_There was running and there was drowning._

_There was terrible drowning, dark and thick, too thick to move through, too thick to strain.  Burns.  Hurts.  Hurts make it stop hurting.  Make it not burn._

_She's too strong.  She's too damn strong._

_Turn back.  Make it stop.  You can't do this…you can't do this, this is wrong!  …you can't do this--I won't let you!_

_I'll stop you; I'll find a way.  _

_…I don't owe you a _thing_!  You can't make me do _anything!_  …I won't let you hurt them; they're mine!  You can't have them!  I'll kill you!_

_…If I die, so do you; I know that, _you_ know that.  You don't touch them; I'll _kill_ you if you do, no more fighting, no more nightmares, no more fucking around.  Do you understand?  I said _no_!_

_…Are you that eager to die?  Is your prison so bad?  Listen…I know it's bad, but this is my life too.  This is _my_ life before you stepped into it, before you were sealed into it; mine!  You had yours already!  You can't have mine!  You can't have them…_

|| End ||

_I'm sorry.  You can't have them.  You can't have them._

_…because I'll destroy you before I let you have them.  I'll finish you._

|| Done Burn Over ||

_No.  I won't let you.  I won't let you._

|| Stop  Die ||

|| Home  Mine ||__

_It belongs to me now; you can't have it back.  I won't let you have it back.  It belongs to me!_

|| Gone  Gone  Gone ||

_What are you doing?  What are you doing?_

|| Done Burn Over ||

_You can't do this to me; I won't let you.  I'll kill you!  _**I'll kill you**_!_

|| No  Understand ||

|| Done  Burn  Over ||

|| Lost  Death  Lost  Lady  Lost  Dead ||__

_…where are you going?  Where are you going!?  You can't leave me here; you can't leave me here like this!  I did it—I followed!  I did my part!  The deal's done, you can't just walk out now!  …you can't leave me like this.  You can't…you can't leave me like this.  _

_"Don't leave me!" _Naruto screamed and shot up in bed.

Gaara struck him across his face, and Naruto's first reaction was to bury his foot as far as it went into his gut before going for his neck and stomach.  Flame danced on his skin and burned into Gaara's.  The floor broke his fall hard.  For a second, Gaara nearly felt uneasiness.  

He had heard Naruto whimpering in his sleep, low in his throat and had seen him twitching.  He hadn't heard Gaara when he called his name, hadn't woken up when he shook his shoulders, first gently then hard and the whines and squeaks of pain grew frequent and higher pitch and he wasn't waking up and Gaara didn't know what to do so he just hit him to make them _both_ feel better.

It was the sand that saved him, held Naruto's claws at bay while bloodshot dark purple eyes glared at him, then retreated, then trembled and threw himself against the sand locked around his body.  Gaara stayed with his back on the floor, his stomach aching and neck throbbing, bleeding gently and stunned.  

The metal-screeching snarl tempered into a thick growl thundering out between jagged teeth, low red eyes glaring and narrowing at him, breathing still heavy, before seeming to retreat.  Inhuman eyes finally focused on him, took in his features and even in his stunned state Gaara could still see the light of recognition and embarrassment that went off behind fox eyes.

Finally, Naruto closed his eyes, and sat back, letting the sand shackle him as she would.  Naruto moved off to his side; theirs legs still touched, and his breathing was heavy.  Slowly Gaara turned his head to study him, his back to the floor.

Naruto still wasn't seeing him.  His eyes were focused on some point in the far future or distant past, and he still trembled.  His neck smelled like blood, and his skin was flushed wet rosy.  The line on his neck _glowed_.

Gaara moved very slowly, sitting up, keeping his distance and still staring at him.  He waited, noting every change in his breathing and shiver, and discovered something interesting.  

Naruto didn't fear him; not anymore.  He used to before, he was always careful in the "You can kill me, I can you," cheerful sort of way, but he always kept his guard up, except when he started to sleep at Gaara's side, when he started to trade kisses and playful flirts.  Even then, he was still alert, still wary of the capriciousness and insanity that lived in his bedtime partner.  

He didn't have any guards up now. It was…unusual.  

He was afraid.  He was afraid, but he was excited too; anticipating.  Eager.  …shameful.  He never looked into Gaara's eyes.  He didn't speak; a rare feat.  He didn't want to hear how he was, he didn't want to see it.  He didn't even want to think about it, except he couldn't help dreaming, drink and fuck as he might.

"You never asked me why I came back to you."

Naruto twitched, eyes darting in his general direction before twitching away equally quick.  He heard.  Gaara's eyes hardened.

"They didn't _deserve_ you."

"Did they deserve that?" comes the small paper-thin whisper still hemmed by an animal rasp, asking questions he has answers to already.

"It was nature, it was what you _were_.  It's what you do; they should have known better than to provoke what they can't control."

There was a whispery cough; it might have been a laugh.  It might have been a sob.  It sounded painful.  Gaara's words sounded so very familiar…so very damn familiar.  So damn…

"…" Gaara reached out to touch his shoulder, before thinking better on it.  "Naruto…"  Blue-fighting-red eyes cut through him like knives, painfully, but without malice.  

"It's what _we_ are.  We can't be judged…there's too much.   You're hurt…you'll get better."

"I'm fucked up.  That's what I am: fucked up."  The blue and red knives go away as he closes his eyes.

"…no.  It's…okay," and damn, did it sound strange for him to be telling anyone that it was 'Okay.'  The only reason Gaara thought it was Okay to be what they were, to _exist_, as they were was because Naruto made him feel good and could smile honestly.  The only thing that made what they were 'Okay' was Naruto.  Gaara didn't believe in himself; in his power, yes, because it would be pointless not to, but not in himself.  He believed in Naruto.  

"Naruto."

The knives didn't come back.

"…" Lightly, Gaara picked up one of his hands, sweaty and shaking, and put it on Naruto's chest.  He remembered the castle; even then, there had been tears, nightmares, but small as lint that he hadn't thought on them twice.  The dark ninja had irritated him too much for him to notice.  Now they're big dust bunnies, and Gaara waited until Naruto could feel his own heart beating.  Feel that he was still alive.

"How's that a good thing?"

"You can't die.  Only the weak die."

They aren't knives anymore, and the red and blue aren't fighting; it's just the indigo blue rising out of the fog.  Naruto considered him carefully.

"I could kill you.  Does that make you weak?"

Silence.

"I don't know my limits anymore Gaara.  I didn't think I could do it; I never planned this far.  I never meant to carry it _this fucking far_."

Light blue disappears as he blinks once, with momentum.  He's whispering; frail as a moth in a monsoon.  

"I think the only reason was to shut her up."

"She's dead now.  She can't talk anymore; you _killed_ her.  You won.  You're strong."

Naruto wilted, withered on himself.  He kept getting smaller.  

Gaara narrowed his eyes with a slow mounting fury; it was that damn thing on his _neck_.

"And you?"

"I'd fight back.  I've never tried to kill you; you should know that.  We can't kill each other…there's no point in trying to hurt each other.  We'd be wasting our time; we're too much alike.  Like trying to kill a mirror."

"You're not like me."

Gaara paused.  He didn't want Naruto to say that, he didn't want to think about that.  He was right, of course.  They weren't alike, not inside.  They met the same difficulties, the same obstacles, but they reacted in very different ways.  They always had.  Gaara never wanted to care about anyone and would never hurt someone he cared about.  Naruto wanted to care so much, be cared about so much that he did it until he hurt; he didn't know when to stop.  When it was time to move back.  Gaara didn't know when it was time to move forward.

"No.  But no one else is like us.  We are alone.  Together we're alone."  
  
"And that makes it better?"

Stab.  Gaara flinched.  "What do you mean?"  
  


"That we're alone.  So it makes everything…better.  That we have no limits.  I don't know where to stop; I don't know when to stop.  There's no one telling me when it's enough, there's no fatigue to pull me down.  I don't know when I've won anymore; I don't know when I've lost.  I don't know when I'm home I don't…I don't belong anywhere.  Not with humans and not with Them."

Naruto looked up at him somberly, "Gaara, I don't think I can die."

"I don't know what to do.  I don't know what to do.  I don't know what to—"

"Naruto."  He pulled his face up in his hands, made him meet his eyes, and felt the hysterical vibrations through his skin and erratic heartbeat.  No, Naruto wasn't afraid, but he had been standing on the edge of something much bigger than him, bigger than anything he had ever known for too long now and just realized how fucking deep the damn chasm truly was.

The worst thing about getting one's wings, of being truly free, was knowing what to do with it.  Where to go.  The worst thing about freedom was the responsibility that came with it.  One truly is alone when one is free; that is the definition of freedom—freedom to choose by one's self.  For one's self.  With love came too many ties; ties held one down. All alone; the freedom came all alone.  

Naruto trembled like a sparrow in hands, wings not broken from the gales he'd been fighting in, but not far from it.  Not long now before he broke completely.

"That's why I'm here.  You never asked why I came back."

"Why?" Naruto cut him off sharply.

"I came back for you.  We're alone…but we don't have to be alone—by ourselves.  We can still…hang out.  Talk.  Touch.  We still can.  It's not…it's not so hard to do.  It doesn't hurt; it doesn't have to hurt.  We can't hurt each other—we're the same enough that we can't.  It's…okay.  We're safe.  Together we're safe."

The corner of Naruto's lip twitched, "Safe…"

"We can be.  We don't have to be…in the darkness.  If we don't want to.  We can get out of it.  We can always get out of it."

"Stay with me," his windows were pale blue again, dripping warm salt water.  His lips were formed around the word 'Please' but his voice had hidden too well for it to say.  His voice was still the gentle beatings of a moth's wings.  Gaara rubbed the edge of his cheek, and the windows shut though rain still came through.  "Hold me."

Naruto collapsed, lunged, light and small and short and Gaara held him tight.  He wasn't gentle because he didn't know how to be, wasn't paternally comforting because he didn't know that either.  What he did know was certainty, and he held on to the twitching weak form without the slightest intention of letting go.

"I can't believe I did that…I can't believe I did _that_…" was repeated over and over into the skin on his shoulder, hands spasming on his chest as the shaking leaf tried to curl up close to him and tried to curl up away from him, "God I can't believe _I_ did that…me…"

"Fuck…I really am a selfish bastard, aren't I?  Aren't I?  …geez, fuck, I can't really blame him…he was always such an effing…"  Naruto hiccupped and Gaara held him tighter, painfully.  He didn't say a word, because this all sounded too familiar.  Hadn't he thought like that once?  

Except…it was Naruto now.  He hadn't thought the blonde would go through something like he had; they seemed too different.

"I came back for you."  
  
"Gaara…Gaara I…I didn't…I swear I didn't mean to…"

"It was just meant to _start_ and then it'd stop and it'd be okay and everything would be back to normal and she'd be dead and I'd be home or I'd be dead and you'd be there and it'd be okay and everything and I'd been so damn sure that someone somewhere would be stronger than me…"

"I had to make him stronger than me…  How sick is that?  _How fucking sick is_ _that_?  …god…I'm tired.  Gaara I'm tired.  She'd have killed me if she'd known…I don't know.  I don't know anymore."  
  
"I've got you."

Silence for a while.  Naruto was wrapped around his neck securely; his shirt damp from tears and spit and sweat, body curled in his lap as well as any 18 year old could manage.

"Gaara, I…"

Naruto could feel humid breath down his back; like an animal's breath.  It'd be a long time before Gaara came close to resembling something human.  

It was in the little things that he did; how he looked too hard and deep at things, measured everything up to his own level of security, how he never thought twice about killing, had nothing resembling a human conscious, how he listened to little details…how he didn't trust or have a damn thing except himself, but when he _did_ have something, when he _did_ trust, when he _did_ choose something with the human part of himself he did it all the way; no looking back, no second guessing.  

Naruto closed his eyes.  He and Gaara were nothing alike.

"I don' wanna hurt you…"

"You can't.  I won't let you."

The body was still in his arms, though he still trembled a little with the aftershocks.

"Promise?"

Gaara felt he had stepped into something deep.  Still, he never did look back.

"Promise."

Naruto hiccupped once more on his shoulder, and finally unhooked his hands from his shirt and put his arms around him.  

Some minutes later, he would kiss the side of his neck, Gaara would caress down his spine, and they would kiss open-mouth, the good rare kiss that contains too much emotion and too much understanding to be done everyday: slow, very slow, deep, but so strong it nearly hurt.  In a little spot in Naruto's ribcage, he felt a small sting of pain and was relieved.  Gaara licked the tears from his face and over his eyes and brushed his hair back lovingly, and his tongue was rough and gentle in his mouth, but so damned certain that Naruto couldn't even begin to think how to deny him anything he asked.  Nor did he.  

That night, it was Naruto that whimpered and squirmed underneath, arching his neck and dragging his nails over Gaara's spine.  It was the first time he'd ever allowed Gaara that sort of control—the first time he'd allowed _anyone_ that sort of control.  He was rough—_too_ rough, _delightfully_ rough—but his kiss was so certain and strong that Naruto couldn't stop him, though he remembered never to give Gaara that sort of power again.  He was too…certain.  Rough around the edges.  Worse than that, he was too possessive; he left a mark on Naruto's neck that would take a full _week_ before it faded.  

Naruto came with a scream, feeling sharp teeth tear through the skin on his neck and hands bruising a brand into his hips and shoulder.  It happened twice more, making a grand total of three times of Gaara brutally investigating every little crevice and pleasure center he could manage before Naruto told him to stop; he couldn't take anymore, his body couldn't take anymore.  But once more—don't stop at three, whatever you do damn you, don't you _dare_ stop at three!  Not a three; never at three, never again.  Never again.  Never again.

It was a promise Gaara would break.

***

Gray blue smoke wove up lazily into the dry desert air outside the biker bar. Collections of lean monsters were haphazardly lined up outside gleaming black, blue, and red paint and silver chrome. Roaring 400 horsepower, sleek, turns on a dime, eats up gas like a real mother but there's none better.

The inside of the bar was lit and rowdy, the first two fights of the night waning as the drinks and money got looser, and the third in it's beginning stages. A group of leather and denim clad toughs smoked outside, eyes on his own bike to make sure some slick bastard didn't nick it and need taking care of, and sharply glancing over the motorcycles to see what had what. 

Blue gray smoke wafted into the desert night air, hot and arid with a hint of dead salt, overlapped with nicotine and stale sweat and piss, a bottom odor of oil at its fundament.  Conversation fishtailed from bikes to women to bikes to gangs and idiots to beer to bikes to hangouts to buddies and bastards to bikes.

A shout came out from inside the weather beaten bar and its one ceiling fan, a crash of glass as bottles were broken.

Attention outside however was kept on a stranger smoking silently at the edge. Bikers guarded their territory fiercely; the freak wasn't known, wasn't with anybody, didn't even seem to have a fucking _bike_. It was a miracle that the bastard hadn't been taken and jumped already. It was weird.   From men who cut their own tongues on broken glass, scars on the hands and neck from bloody bar fights, some missing ears and fingers…nobody wanted to touch the outsider.  It was strange.  

Could've been the way he stood, the way he smoked…something about him was just…off. _Wrong_. 

Then again, they may have been waiting for the proper prompting.  It was always more fun that way, and whatever idiot that came wandering in always provided it sooner or later.

He was just a kid, young and soft barely out of his teens, held himself loosely, ignorant to their glances, wearing beaten black jeans and gray cotton shirt. The only piece of leather on him was a ritzy red jacket, the sissy designer kind no idiot would wear outside the city, without a tear or stain on it, still holding on to the faint polish. His blond hair was hand-cut and standing out at odd angles like a malpracticed broom, eyes covered with cheap red sunglasses, skin tanned bronze with sunburn bright his nose and ears.

//_City boy, here on vacation to show what a tough guy he is_.//

::_Why hasn't anyone taken him?_::

The group narrowed their eyes, glances sliding, shifted uncomfortably, subtly shuffling just _slightly_ closer together. 

There was a scream from inside and a window broke as a man was thrown through it, bouncing up and down where he hit the gritty dirt and skidded across. There was angry shouting, ending abruptly.

The blond punk had a grin on his face; smoke leaking out his mouth, cigarette held loosely between his fingers.

As one man, the outside group trailed eyes to follow the guy who strode out the door to kick the fallen man in the ribs, the sounds of bones cracking thunderous in the silence. The guy coughed up blood without a sound. No one moved. He kicked him again, hard enough to flip him over and away, the guy landing with a crunch. The stranger detached himself from the wall, moved into the herd of metal horses, road demons with wheels. 

The fighter stopped kicking, turned his head in the direction of the movement, tilting his ears like wild animal, not even breathing hard or with the standard maniac gleam in his eye that the men had come to expect. He looked coolly focused. Then he walked over to the stranger.

Like most everyone else, he was dressed in torn black jeans and a ragged black shirt, not bothering with a jacket. A closer look showed that he was just another kid, with a shorter scraggly cut of blood red hair, stains of blood all over his face and bare arms, and some kind of tattoo on his forehead. He looked more like a ::_a killer_:: than the blond kid, even if he was wearing face paint and sandals.

::_More a man than you gadget fuckers would ever be_::

::_The man over there is dead_::

Eyes turned to the man still curled on the ground, drowned in the sour light coming from the doorway, all alone.  Eyebrows lifted and several specific neurons fired to life.  //_Huh_.//

He hadn't moved at all.

::_Stay away_::

::_Stay away_::

::_Forget_::

The group fought the urge to shuffle closer together.  They'd been around; they could recognize a predator when they saw one, but it wasn't often they saw anyone under 16 walk in and out of a fight without a limp.  The two kids couldn't be much older than 16; Red could have been 17.

The red haired ::_killer_:: had finally stopped in front of the blond punk. Offered him keys. Comprehension kicked in a rush: Oh, so the red head kid had to be an older brother, or friend, _way_ out of town showing his little city pal a good--

Eyebrows shot up when blondie leaned forward to kiss the red head. On his _lips_.  Like they were girls.

Jaws dropped and cigars fell unheeded to the dirt when red melted into it. When red fucking _melted_ and pressed the keys into blondie's hand, even fucking _moaning_.

Normally, this sort of image would have been shot through by several different guns or at least beaten into the dust except at the more liberal bike stops. Abnormally, no one twitched a finger.  It was a true Twilight Zone moment, and no one felt like ruining it until the aliens showed up.

Blondie broke away with a sultry grin and hooded eyes, allowing a final brief kiss before straddling a bike and priming it, the killer settling in behind--behind like a _girl_--the flash bastard, arms locked around his waist, head resting over his shoulders. 

Blondie offered them a bright, brittle smile before clumsily maneuvering out and speeding off into the desert, tires squealing inexpertly.  One or two of them shifted idly, then blew out a draft of smoke between his lips, smiling like a contented dragon.  It was definitely turning out to be one of the more _interesting_ nights…

//_Well, it wasn't _my_ bike…//_

***

"I'm afraid I'm going to drown this thing…" Naruto mumbled, foot uneasy on the gas.  He wasn't quite sure how it worked or how to drive, but was getting the hang of it after the last three motorcycles they had crashed.  "So didja have fun?"

A shrug against his shoulders.  "It was too easy."

"Well, yeah…but you had _some_ fun right? A fight's a fight. And it was with your bare hands, no jutsu. A kinda experience."  Again, a shrug against his shoulders.

Gaara's hand came up to tear a sliver of glass out of his chin. Being hit with glass wasn't real fun, but it wasn't too bad. Worse had happened. And forcing, literally overlapping his will over the sand's, over his mother's, _had_ been difficult.  The trick, Naruto had persuaded him, was to know you weren't going to get hurt. It was just fun; nothing serious.

As Naruto had pointed out, it wasn't always convenient for a huge stick of sand to impale somebody in the middle of the parking lot. It made people stare. Gaara didn't care if people stared or not anymore, not now that he had Naruto all to himself. But Naruto did care, if only for convenience, so Gaara was learning control slowly.

Gaara closed his eyes and relaxed snug against Naruto's back, body alert for the second the bike began to dip to the side or brake suddenly and jump off it. He didn't trust these things; they had always traveled by foot.  Motorcycles, cars, buses…Sure they were real _things_, but they couldn't compare to a real ninja's agility and speed, although they could outlast it.

"Wonder if it has a radio…" Naruto trailed off as Gaara's eyes snapped open.

It was looking for the radio last time that had made the vehicle careen down a canyon side. As fun as it had been watching the cursed thing fall, sparks flailing and exploding, the shock of falling and Naruto getting cut on the inside of his knee had not.  

Worse had been the walk through nowhere to get somewhere.  Naruto complained too much, never shut up, and Gaara refused to carry him.  In the end, his terrifying sand was reduced to a transportation device.  Naruto had curled on his chest to take a nap while grains steadily carried them south.

Hot dry wind ran through Gaara's hair like an old lover, flapped the sleeves of his shirt up his arms. Around his neck with a thong of leather, with shards of smooth, unfinished glass tied to it in two spots.  Two shards, never three.   He might add more as time went by—in fact he meant to—but never stopping at three.  No dip, but no music either. His body coiled when he felt them swerve slightly to the left before righting, heard an odd whine and saw the headlight come on.  "Radio, radio…Where's the bleeding radio…"

Personally, Gaara didn't think motorcycles _had_ radios, but he didn't say anything. Naruto continued to fool for it, and Gaara stayed alert.

A short 10 minutes later found them dancing--or at least Naruto dancing--to music only he could hear around the bonfire of the last late bike. It had been a glorious time of speed and wind, and even thought they never _did_ find the radio, they were bloody well going to have music!

"Ah EEE~EeeEE~ah wee bong bon away!" Naruto screamed on the top of his lungs, madly swinging a stiff Gaara around in a circle by the arms.  "In the jungle! The mighty jungle! The lion sleeps tonight! Ahh eee~EeEe ya a bee bon awaa~aay!!"

Gaara kept tripping on his feet as Naruto spun them faster by the wrists, screeching the kiddy campfire song on adolescent-breaking vocals, his face beaming in a happy maniac grin.  He didn't mind the bits where Naruto spontaneously jumped into his arms and kissed him breathless, his body heavy in his arms before bouncing back out again and swinging him wildly.  Naruto—Naruto was weird.  And if Gaara could have smiled, he would have.  As it was, he settled for looking irritated.  

Naruto had never found the damn radio, _but_ he had some music and shy (sort of.  Stiff, certainly) and sexy (damn straight!) dance partner that kept stumbling, marine eyes glancing at him in confusion and annoyance that he was cheerfully ignoring, so everything was absolutely great! 

He was free. He was with someone who liked him, someone he needed and someone who needed him. Things were great. Things were great and more.

Everything else could go to hell.  He was free.  

He was finally _free_!

***

_He wouldn't stop touching him.  He wouldn't stop touching him._

_It was just as well the blindfold was on because his eyes kept on closing by themselves, feeling heavy as if drunk and sleepy, but so receptive like Sasuke was in a sensory-dream, where nothing was solid but it felt so damn—_

**His head pounds and pain screams through his bones, mocking betrayal bleeding his ears wilting under the murderous sun.**

_Sasuke twisted to his left, one leg stretching hard while his toes curled, feeling _his_ dry chapped lips scratch gently against his inner thighs, already the scalding temperature of a rainforest in the spring monsoons spreading under his skin like a wildfire from the faint puffs of concentrated evanescent heat from _his_ breath breaking against his skin like a wave._

**The fire blazed in black tree trunks, tearing at his hair and skin and stealing the air from his lungs.**

_His fingers are callused and roughed, and even with Sasuke's own arms tied behind his back he still jumps when they tease his right nipple, his eyes opening against the blind, while a combination of fleshy softness and polished wood calluses assault the little bits of his body that are triggered straight to his arousal and leave him weak as a newborn kitten and reveal just how hungry he is for that thing he can't name he really is; a ravenous, overwhelming hunger and he…_

**His arm breaks.  His leg breaks.  There is pain and demon blood running rampant through his blood.  He nearly isn't him anymore.  He nearly isn't human anymore.**

_Sasuke can taste Naruto in his mouth._

**Betrayal.  Bleed.  He was supposed to fall.  He was supposed to fall; it had been him, not the other.**

_He doesn't cry.  He doesn't scream.  He makes no sound at all, because that's who he is._

**It wasn't supposed to be like this.  He didn't want it to be like this.  How had this happened?**

_Naruto doesn't taste like miso ramen anymore.  He doesn't.  He used to.  He doesn't anymore._

**Make this not be happening.  Make this not be happening.  Make this not b--**__

_He tastes like blood._

**The Three are over: Dead Lost Over Death **

**_The Fire keeps coming._**

Sasuke's eyes sprang open, jerking up and after scrabbling at the edge of his brain he remembered to breath again.  He inhaled too deeply, too loudly for his liking, but that didn't stop him from doing it again.

He was alone.  This was his room.  He was alone.  It was dark.  This was his room.  This was the inn.  He could get out any time he wanted.

Things did not come in threes.  They didn't.

His mouth moved as he tried to push the taste out of his mouth, before reluctantly getting out of bed and spitting in the bathroom sink, rinsing his mouth out thoroughly with mint mouthwash; never cinnamon, always mint.  Then he waited, growled with frustration and obligingly vomited in the toilet.  

Damn it all, but this was starting to piss him off.  He really should have planned the bastard's death better: It would've made him feel better.

***

The city was strange.  The city was strange and a little creepy and _really_ smelly, and too crowded at times, and it was quickly learned that Gaara could not stay in crowded areas long.  It just didn't work: either he got out of it, or it got whole lot less crowded very quickly as the bodies dropped.  It just didn't work, so they both tried to avoid it.  

Still, the radio was cool, and the tall buildings had them staring until cricks formed painfully in the neck.  Naruto was now practicing hijacking cars, trucks and driving all in that order, and Gaara was practicing on making the sand in concrete answer him.

Besides cars, Naruto's interest had been pulled in an artistic direction: He has discovered the advanced art of graffiti.  Gaara was soon initiated, and with green and black as his insignia and red and gold as Naruto's they compete with the local gangs to see who can cover the downtown buildings quicker with unintelligible scrawl.  It's no small wonder who won.   It would take months before the City scrabbled up the money to buy paint for graffiti 30 stories high.

Besides concrete and spray painting over windows, Gaara's interest had been pulled in a _social_ direction: He has discovered the advanced art of drinking alcohol.  Emphasis on _advanced_.  There is drinking to loosen up and drinking to forget today and drinking to forget tomorrow.  There is drinking to forget life in general.  There is drinking to die.  College English majors have _perfected _the art of drinking, but nuclear-physicists have _transcended_ the experience.  Not even Shukaku can arise even though Gaara can feel his conscious slipping into darkness and Naruto drooling on his foot.

For some reason, they both wake up with greased dyed hair, pierced ears, and pink elephants stampeding migraines in their heads.  Naruto wakes up naked; Gaara is wearing someone else's shirt and nothing else.  In true college fashion, the shirt wisely proclaims, "Beer!  Helping white guys dance since 1875!"  

Naruto glanced up at him sluggishly.  "…din' know y' dance…"

Gaara winced; his ears…his **_head_**…  

"Shhh…"

"Nnnnn…"

***

"So which one do you wanna go on?  The Accelerator or the Ghost Ride whatever thingy over there with the super big line.  They're all about lines here, you notice?  I'm thinking I can make you throw up in the first six seconds."

Gaara glanced at the roaring metal dragon that people were screaming on and shrugged.  What a weird place.  He couldn't believe people paid money for this.

"Aw, c'mon!  You haven't picked anything out!  What if you throw up on _me_ or something, don't you wanna be here?"  Naruto visibly flinched when Gaara began to consider this and waved his hands wildly, "What if I make the wrong choice or something?!"  

Gaara glanced at him.  "How?"

Time stilled. 

Every so often, people describe having an out-of-body experience, where they see themselves through someone else's eyes.  It's usually something terribly embarrassing, like having one's lips hook over one's braces as you lean in to give your crush a kiss, or tripping out of the bathroom stall with one's pants and underwear still hanging around one's ankles and sliding off to a hot pink oblivion with the sound of high-pitched laughter in one's ears as one's head concusses with the sink.  Every so often, something truly momentous happens that forces people to see themselves as others see them.

Gaara trusts Naruto.

Naruto's face smoothed from his frustrated good-natured lecture, and something slippery and sleek swam beneath the surface of his eyes, but it vanished before Gaara could get a good look at it.    

His blood quickened when Naruto began to slowly smile a very evil smile, before yanking on his wrist and dragging them to the head of the 3-mile long line and jumping in, tangling the straps up with Naruto bouncing in his seat like a child.  No one protests because no one sees them move.  

Gaara shoots the odd look he's been giving everyone and everything (_nothing_ makes sense here) and sucks on his orange ice slushee while Naruto shrieks in his ear and gravity begins to play with his stomach.  The horizon _dips_…

Results of very first co-ed roller coaster ride: Naruto threw up twice (once on ride, once on ground) and Gaara lost ice slushee.  Bought three more (blueberry, coconut, cotton candy flavored).  Hair stands on end on both.

Results of very first theme-park restaurant: Naruto started the food-fight.  It sort of all went downhill from there.  Gaara proves dead shot with plastic sporks.

Results of very first theme-park candy store:  Stolen.  All of it.  Down to the last jawbreaker.  Naruto does not stop bouncing.

Results of very first theme-park arcade: Broken.  It was…kind of an accident?  Sort of.  It wasn't his fault!  The thing just broke off in his hand!  

Results of very first theme-park representative costumed Kenny the Kangaroo:  Dunno.  Pushed him in the Alligator Lake, haven't seen him since.  Didn't see any alligators either.

Results of very first theme-park police/authority:  Who?  Oh, yeah, right.  _Them_.  Um…their underwear's in the kiddy-rides, and not terribly sure where the rest got to, but pretty sure they're still alive.  Naruto kept one of the solid black wrap-around glasses.  Glasses are shiny.

Casualties: 18 and counting.  

Dead bodies:  Um, none possibly.  Hopefully.  Yet, anyway.  

Results of very first theme-park bathroom line experience: Zero.  

Dragging a sniggering Naruto by the wrist, they thudded to a stop and looked at the line (and it was a _line!_).  Naruto broke out laughing, "Want another slushee?  Huh?  I'll even buy it for you!  C'mon let's go get another!  Tequila flavored!  Cherry flavored!" and Gaara glowered at the goofy idiot hooting next to him.  Then he walked over to the bathroom wall, unzipped and let fly.

Naruto gawked, before bursting out laughing so more, "You're not really gonna—Oh my gosh you are!  Oh wow!  Oh _wow_!  Oh…neat idea!  Why didn't I think about that?"

He shot an odd look (whatever, this whole place was insane…but then again that was all right, because he was too) over at the bewildered doofus, "Oh, I _did_ do that.  I forgot," and notes that he's not the only one staring.  Not by a long shot.  

Methodically, Gaara notes that the all the idiot males are just realizing what a wonderful opportunity has been in front of their dicks all this time, while the females are looking scandalized and screaming.  One catches his eye because she has hair like his, but she's not looking away or running like the others but is actually gaping at him…well, sort of him.  It belongs to him, anyway.  She's _really_ interested and digging for a camera and, again, Gaara shakes his head as he zips himself back up and walks off; this whole place was weird.  

Naruto's smirking devilishly at him, "Nice display man, that so totally rocked," and hangs off his shoulders, apparently forgiving him for not feeling sick even once.   The grip on his shoulders is possessive and he allows himself a small smirk and starts sucking on the new bubble-gum ice slushee that's bought for him.  So, he wasn't the _only_ one who saw the stares after all…

They inspect the latest thrill-ride contraption, something metal that goes upside down and backwards and drops down at 115 m/p/h while Gaara sucks on the tequila ice-slushee.  Naruto's stomach is empty, so they jump to the head of the line again and jump on.  Miraculously, Naruto does not vomit but Gaara has to scrape him up and carry him off the ride and lets him sleep it off while he starts on lemonade, margarita, vodka, and lime ice slushees.  

At exactly 4 hours 15 minutes 19 seconds 4 rides and 27 ice slushees later, Gaara has a brain freeze.

It is not a pretty sight.  

***

There were other incidents people didn't see.

There had been the time Naruto had been harmlessly frying omelets at one of the hotels that they were hopping to and from, and Gaara had surprised him by walking him dripping water dressed only in a towel.  Jaws and spatula had dropped at nearly the same time, higher brain functions: _kaput_!  

It wasn't the fact that he was naked (well, yeah it _was_, but it wasn't _all_ of it) it was more the fact that he was so secure.  It was strange to see Gaara just…walking in half-naked anywhere with all the lights on.  It was out of character!  It was…weird!

Gaara _hadn't_ smiled, but walked forward slowly, nearly shyly, and grabbed one of the cool bacon slices and started eating.  After a while, he glanced down at the gawking male and remembered to kiss him lightly.

Naruto had grinned into it, grabbed his wrists, and traded spit rather aggressively but still let Gaara lead: he was getting better at it, this kissing and touching business.  He was getting a _lot_ better at it; he could nearly turn the tables on Naruto in bed now.  Wouldn't be long now until the short blonde couldn't remember anyone but Gaara's kiss and touch, and wouldn't go looking for anyone else.  He was nearly there; he was getting better so it wouldn't be long at _all_.  

Gaara nearly grinned back and brushed his hands under Naruto's shirt, feeling the heated flesh shiver at his touch.  He pressed him closer and felt the short body arch into it, the kiss becoming less playful and more serious as Naruto's tongue invaded and conquered his mouth, his breath short and hard already.  Gaara felt his knees jellify and his stomach knot like so many rubber bands.  //…_damn.  He's so…//_  

Naruto's hand slid down his back, mixing with the cooling water and nails scratching teasingly along his spine, and fiddled idly with the towel hanging off his hips.

Gaara slipped out of his hands and back into the door, out of breath but composed with three more slices of bacon in hand.  "Going to get some clothes on."

Naruto's response and the clatter of the frying pan were instantaneous.  "Nah, you're gonna _get it_ now!"  He was grinning when he said it, fangs flashing.

Gaara ran from the door, darting out and Naruto followed close to his heels, blocking the window and keeping his eyes on the door and grinning deviously when Gaara played along, eyes dark and sharp but actually _*playful*_ under all that cold "I don't care, go fuck yourself," exterior he always had on.  They circled, knowing that whoever caught whom the end result would still be the same: wet, hot, and deliciously tickling.

Who knew sex could be so much fun?

They always played like children, except when they played like demons, because they didn't know how to be anything else.  

In the end, before Gaara let him get anywhere _near_ him, he had made Naruto take off his clothes, because it wasn't fair that he was the only one wearing not-enough clothes.  Once Naruto started, whatever thought Gaara had of playing Tease had ground to stop as he stared at the predatory glint in pale cyan eyes and the casual flash of teeth.  Naruto had stepped up to him on the bed in clear light, letting him get a good look of what he had been bedding for little over two months now.  

He had been expecting to be kissed, with the seductive tilt of full lips slanted playfully and had been slightly disappointed when Naruto had stopped a good distance away to pull his towel away, letting it drop to the ground and hit his feet.  When Naruto had stepped closer, eyes still seductively narrowed and lips teasingly smiling Gaara had instinctively lowered his head down and parted his lips.  Naruto had come closer—before sliding to his knees and licking his stomach, hands shockingly hot around his hips.  The emotion in Gaara's eyes had been indescribable.

If Naruto hadn't been holding him up by his hips, the shudder that went through him would have knocked him down, and together they managed to lower him gently down to the mussed sheets and pillows.  The predatory look never went out of Naruto's eyes, nor the stunned out of Gaara's and he threw his head back when lips caressed along the length of his cock, teeth brushing butterfly-hard against it, before nibbling without breaking the skin.  Gaara gasped and growled impatiently, tugging at his hair and throwing him back to kiss him hard.  Damn it, if Naruto wasn't going to kiss him then he would!  

Most men would say using teeth hurt; neither Gaara nor Naruto were human, because as often as they slept next to each other and kissed they nearly always bit and bruised each other, nearly always fought.  

Naruto shoved him back, so hard that he nearly fell out of the bed and followed at his heels, claiming his mouth possessively and groping his buttocks, groaning slightly even as Gaara hissed and trailed his nails hard against his back, breaking wounds that healed almost instantly afterward.  Naruto shoved himself between his legs, and bit his fingers when Gaara brought his hand up to lick the blood off, the two of them nearly nose to nose, one mock-glaring and sucking his lover's blood off his hand and the other still grinning predatorily and licking his own blood off his partner's fingers and stirring the blood _inside_ those fingers around and around and over again until he couldn't take it anymore and Naruto shoved him off and down.  At the end, Gaara screamed like a creature hunted and caught, and Naruto didn't let him bite his neck again.  No hickeys, not from Gaara.  He didn't like it when Gaara did that.

It was Naruto's hormones carrying him away beyond what he could control.  It was Gaara not knowing if it was normal or not.

They always played like children, except when they played like demons, because they didn't know how to be anything else.  They didn't know if they _could_ be anything else, and they didn't even try.

***

A/N: 39 pages.  39 pages ladies and gentlemen, because it kept on nudging me with possibilities.  So…it's not dark anymore!  I know, there's no real great lemon scenes in here, but I just don't see the potential for it.  Maybe in the next chapter, I dunno.  I finally got a livejournal.  I found out I have stalkers.  Hope the shifts weren't too bad; dunno if I captured Kakashi adequately, but I'm going to have more opportunities to do better if I didn't.  We'll see.  

Love you all!


	13. II: Break CheeseBoardChest

A/N: Can we all say _sap_? Say it with me now, _Sa~ap_…Watch out for your shoes!  Truth is, the desert in winter is _freezing_—there just isn't any snow.  I'm treating Yashamura like a girl consistently throughout the story regardless if she is a girl or a boy—it's too late to change now 0_0

The following quotes were chosen in regards to Naruto, Gaara, and the Sasuke-Kakashi-Naruto dynamic.  The final quote from _Attraction_ itself describes the overall chapter.  Enjoy!

***

Attraction 

By gelfling

gelfling8604@yahoo.com

//_Thoughts//_

_::Invading thoughts_::

***

I lie down and blind myself with laughter/ Well, a quick fix of hope is what I'm needing

And how I wish that I could turn back the hours/ But I know I just don't have the power

--_Could It Be Any Harder?_, The Calling

I want you, I need you, but there ain't no way I'm ever gonna love you,

Now don't be sad: Two outta three ain't bad.

--_Two Out of Three, _Meatloaf 

There's a monster, living under my bed whispering in my ear

There's an angel, with her hand on my head, she say I got nothing to fear.

--_Put Your Lights On_, Santana feat. Everclear

And Gaara had left it at that. It was his concern, his life, not Gaara's. 

–Chapter 8, _Attraction_, gelfling

***

There were various reasons why Iruka would never be a full-fledged shinobi, not in the sense of the ninja that was only a ninja: Most shinobi weren't.  They tended to die quickly.  They were sometimes powerful, such as Itachi Uchiha, but he was like Iruka Umino in the sense that he would never be a true ninja.

Iruka was far too honest.  It wasn't that he always told the truth, or that he always did the right thing, but he held no illusions.  

It was part of the reason why he could never hate Naruto as much as everyone else seemed to, as much as he reasonably thought he should.  He _knew_ that Naruto wasn't the Fox; there was no point.  It was one of the reasons why he never allowed himself to advance to Jounin, because he knew that there were going to be missions that he wouldn't want to take and couldn't refuse, and it just wasn't his _thing_.  He didn't care about getting stronger: Why would he?  For what reason?  It was the reason why he never stopped teaching.  It was the reason behind a lot of things, his honesty.

Right now, it had him trapped.

One hand said that what he saw and heard and felt couldn't possibly be true, because it was too impossible.  There was too much pain to contemplate, more pain that there was even possible to _have_.  It was far too much.  It _couldn't_ be true, because if it was then…

…

…no…

He didn't like to think about it.  But he knew that if the fox were ever to attack again, it would mean obliteration and oblivion, because now there was no one who could stop it.  They hadn't been able to stop it the first time with all their combined might and mind: the supernatural genius that was the Yondaime had merely managed to prolong the fight, stall for time.

And Iruka couldn't help wondering _why_ he had stalled the fight, _who_ he planned to continue it after his death.  Had the Yondaime planned anything at all?  Maybe he was thinking what that…had said.  

Perhaps he had secretly hoped they would kill it.  Everything the 3rd retold said differently, but the Yondaime had been _part_ ninja if not full-fledged in the spiritual sense.  Ninja said what they wanted to be heard, no more, no less.

"You know that, don't you.  You have to.  It's more than just shuriken and ninjutsu, more than just our clans and wearing a lot of dark colors and masks…it's more than that.  It's how you think, how you live.  You know all of that."  

Iruka stopped talking momentarily to loosely clasp his hands in his lap, his eyes still idly watching over Lee.  The kid was better; he was _lots_ better, and he really didn't need anyone keeping night vigil over him anymore, but Iruka liked to watch him sleep.  He had the same honesty, but paired with a shy boldness and curiosity, on top of a ridiculous and endearing bowl haircut.  It was cute, in a funny, hopeless sort of way.

"I'm glad I never really got into it.  I don't think I would have done very well; after a while my conscious catches up to me.  I never did learn how to just leave it behind."

There may have been an insult in that statement.  There was no response.  

Iruka's sense of honesty was catching up to him something awful.  He'd been thinking—that's _all_ he'd been doing—and it didn't comfort him but it did provide some closure.  Something raw and painful bled into his voice.

"We really screwed up.  Should've gone after him the second he left--he was far too powerful to just let loose like that."

"We did, remember?"

"Don't talk to me like I'm stupid, Kakashi."  He left off the 'sensei'.  It was a formality that he didn't feel and didn't see the need for.  "I mean…it was partly our fault.  It was his fault too and he…"

Iruka shut his mouth before his voice could break; shifting on the hardback chair he was sitting on for the creak of the floorboards to fill the sharp uncomfortable silence he left.  Nearly invisible, the lank shadow of Kakashi didn't even twitch to breathe.

"I mean we should've seen it coming."

"We should've done a lot of things, and the fact is we didn't.  It's done."

"Get over it right?"  Iruka didn't pout; there was no emotion coloring his voice because he was far too drained.  

He was tired, and his honesty was catching up to him.  It had been what Kakashi had been counting on: that he would pull himself out of it.  In that sense, Iruka was strong; he could be stronger, but he lacked the ambition and ruthlessness of a true shinobi.  And he was stubborn—if Iruka couldn't pull himself out of it, then no one could because he'd fight every step of the way.  Lee had been a useful mirror in that sense, and Kakashi didn't smile but satisfaction purred in his visible gray eye at his own manipulation.

Coming from the soles of his feet, a sigh heaved out of Iruka as he leaned on his hands.  "So this is the next step then?  Setting up a mini-village?"

"Of course not.  It's just a way of surviving—"

"Until what?  For what purpose?"

"We are inquisitive today."

"Answer my question Kakashi.  It's far too late to be weaseling around with words."

There was a long, drawn-out deliberate pause.  Iruka waited patiently, because patience was something he knew sometimes.  "We're…waiting.  We were hit hard, but we weren't destroyed.  And I'm more than sure that our initial threat is gone."

Iruka turned his head sharply, brown eyes clear and focused.  "How do you know that?"

"I didn't say I _knew_, I just think it is," there's a petulant note in Kakashi's voice that still manages to raise the hairs on his neck in irritation. "There are rumors.  There's too many rumors to really _know_, but there hasn't been any…proof to say otherwise.  And there has been evidence that it is true."

"What kind of evidence?"

"You _have_ noticed that Sasuke's sleeping at night now, haven't you?"

There was a slight condescension in Kakashi's voice that he ignored; that was not important right then.  Iruka thought.  

//_Sasuke…_//  

"That…he wasn't hurt.  He wasn't in a fight."

"Maybe he didn't have to be."

"I don't see how he could kill the fox and not fight…" _and it didn't _hurt_ to say that word_, "Has he said anything to you?"

Kakashi shrugged carelessly.  Iruka scowled, swiftly turning his attention back to Lee.  But he couldn't help himself.

"Could it be over?  I mean, if he's dead…" Iruka stopped suddenly.  He remembered it was Naruto he was talking about.  The uncertain silence was pointedly broken by Kakashi.

"No.  It's not over.  But it isn't controlled anymore.  It's not a test of power anymore, which is _good_ because we were losing that way.  Now it's a test of strategy, organization."  

Kakashi's sole gray eye narrowed, as there was no one he needed to hide from just then.  Lee was sleeping, and Iruka was still too raw to be a real threat to him.

//_Sasuke's a wildcard now; there's no telling what he'll do. He's as strong as he needs to be, nearly more than he can control.   Still, he's useful, but he needs something to ground him.  He needs someone to support him._//

"You're gonna be working Shikamaru pretty hard then, huh?"

"I already have been.  It's going to get worse.  You may be able to hear him complain from here."

Iruka nodded, a ghost of something twitching over his lips, and Kakashi had to admit some surprise.  He had expected Lee to draw him out of it, but he hadn't expected him to pull this far.  So…that was how the wind was blowing.  Interesting.  Interesting, but not unexpected.  And useful as well; Iruka's next statement backed up his assessment.

"I'm at your service."

"Are you fit for it?"  Testing temper, resolve.

"I know my limits; I'm sure you've noticed them.  I'll try and do my best to my ability; I can't promise you more than that."

"Really?  Can't, or won't?"

"Both."  Kakashi raised an eyebrow inquisitively, pointedly studying the younger man in the darkness of the unlit room.  

Iruka had too much self-importance to be a good shinobi too—when it came down to the line, he'd go with his gut-instinct and not the mission success.  Of course, Kakashi himself had skewed the code a couple times here and there, but not for his conscience, but because survival was right _now_ more important than the mission.  It was a blurry line, and he'd jumped from side to side often enough in his life, but Iruka had never even _bothered_ trying to live solely for the mission as he had.  He wouldn't even pretend to.  So…interesting still.

"You realize this position isn't unfamiliar to me.  I'm used to orders being obeyed."

"You were an Anbu captain; I know.  But I'm not Anbu, I'm just what you get to work with."

"I was kind of hoping we could work together without antagonism."

Iruka shrugged, "I don't see a problem.  I'm just letting you know ahead of time: there are things I won't do, and some that I just can't."

Kakashi was quiet, silently measuring how this would affect his current position and strategy.  After a while, he got up to leave.  "Fair enough.  I'll see you tomorrow."

***

_"What's your position?"_

"I'm ready."

Candles.  Lights.  Action.  Soon.  Very soon.

Sasuke had to admit though; the rocking of the boat on the night water was very soothing.  The night sky was dark, impenetrable above him.  He couldn't even see the stars.  He was wrapped up in a dark, slightly chilly void that gave him his space and rocked him gently in a dead mother's arms…it was soothing.  He wasn't relaxed, was nowhere near content, but he wouldn't have minded staying there a few extra minutes.  At the flat end of the small boat, four lit candles—because Sasuke wouldn't have allowed 3—burned gently, casting some light—not good enough for him to see by because there was nothing to see, but enough for fish to see him.

_"There's one to your…starboard side?  Port side?  What's it called…the one to your left, Sasuke.  I think—I'm pretty sure I just saw something go under…"_

It was an old fishing trick that worked on squid and other nocturnal fish that were hard to come by else wise; the light attracted, and for some reason the dumb fish always came into the trap.  There would be _lots_ of fish for dinner after this—Sasuke only hoped it was decent.  The place would reek to high heaven within a day from all of them, he was guessing.

The boat bounced up a little, buoyed up by water sloshing under as the tide came back in.  Or something large went under.

_"Neji.  Neji report.  Sasuke can you see him?"_

Sasuke decided he liked this feeling, this constant swaying in the darkness with no purpose or point in life, and only the feeble candles providing light useless light since there was nothing to see.  He would have liked to stay there.  

Sasuke decided he officially hated all fishermen, for living a life where the hardest thing to do was make it to the next day.  Bet _they_ never planned for years and years, only to find that when the years came and went and he was officially an adult and stronger than he ever dreamed it would still be years and years _more_ before he achieved his life's goal.  Years and years and years running in fucking circles after his shadow.

Stupid fishermen.  Bastards.  Idiots.  Huh…they weren't important.  They'd just stink the place up with the damn fish, that was all…

_"Sasuke?"_

Sasuke was thankful for his dark eyes, eyes so dark that it was nearly impossible to tell where his irises and pupils began and ended.  It made it easy for him to watch things while looking like he was watching somewhere else.  

Coming from a place with no light and less color, a mermaid's eyes might have been able to tell the difference.  Might be able to see that his dark eyes were watching _its_ eyes—it's pupils, since the iris was a tiny sliver of grayish-white around the inky pupil huge like plums.  But perhaps the candles blinded it briefly.

There was one hanging off the end near his feet where the candles were.

It wasn't doing anything, wasn't attacking and wasn't singing or trying to touch him, so he more or less ignored it.  It was interrupting the formality of the night.  He would have liked it to go away, but wouldn't waste time wishing or wanting.  Too much energy.  Too much effort.  The night was perfect, without stars or moon.  Just simple, formal grayish black.

The body would be pale gray, almost white but rubbery thick skin with a strong jawbone and workman-like pointed teeth in two or three rows.  Slight raisings in the skull at the sides would indicate the ears, and there was a _slight_ nose not meant for breathing, but for smelling.  Three complicated gills on either side of the neck for amphibious breathing.  The hands were wide with flaps of skin in between the fingers, complicated bone structure showing through.  The breasts—on the females, the common ones as males were harder to find in this species—would be small, but evident.  The animal ended in a long tail, one not _expressly_ covered in scales, but more made like a dolphin's or shark's.  There might be some scales, but there wouldn't be many.  The vertebrae would be raised, almost into a dorsal fin but stopping just short of it.

In truth, mermaids were nothing new—it was fact that only Kakashi knew that a very long, _long_ time ago, the shinobi of the Mist had tried to breed with them, in an attempt to make a stronger, more specialized shinobi.  It had _worked_, but the ninja had proven to be too unstable, and hard to control.  The practice stopped, but the idea proved effective enough to have a few clans continue the bloodline by in-breeding and getting new mermaids.  _That_ kind of shinobi still existed, but they were extremely rare.

And that had always _fascinated_ Kakashi.  Okay, breeding with animals…_happened_.  It was _more_ than a little questionable, but it _happened_.  Horses, sheep, er, even some dogs…at the root they were all _mammals_.  They were all somewhat _based_ on the same biological blueprint.  But how on _earth_ did people ever manage to breed with _fish_?  They didn't even have vaginas!  At least not one's made for human use, and the males were buggers to find, but it was still pretty _damn_ unlikely that they had something resembling the human penis.

…In the end, Kakashi always went back to his sanctified porn.  There were some things out there that were better left…out there.  But you really had to hand it to the Mist ninja; when they wanted to do something, they _found_ ways how to do it.  

Ino had nearly thrown up at his explanation, and had called him all manner of names that had even surprised Shikamaru.

_"…I can't find Neji.  He isn't responding, and there's two on either side of you Sasuke, and I think one more at the end.  Sasuke?  Sasuke respond.  Sasuke?  …Quit fucking around you ass-hole, this is serious!"_

Sasuke closed his eyes in irritation.  The formality was just…

_"Sasuke!"_

"Shut up and worry about yourself," he grumbled, eyes still closed.

The boat jerked as it swung over, capsizing into the freezing water.  The candles didn't even have time to sputter, and—suddenly pissed off that no one was letting him enjoy the night—the water exploded around him.  

He used up his energy in a flurry of anger, and took one out in clear perfect crystal focus as scratched the front of his neck with his claws drawing blood and touching his collar bone--and the Sharingan burned away at it's brain, freezing it for the one precious moment he needed to shove a knife up through the soft underside of the jaw, and felt claws rip along his back, through his armor and into his skin.

There was a familiar silver feeling coming closer…a strange fluctuations in energy…

Well.  At least now he knew where Neji went.  He wondered how long he'd been under water, before deciding he didn't care.  His fingers bent into familiar patterns, and he didn't hold it back.

In his ear, even underwater, he could still hear Ino screaming in pain.

***

"Mission report.  No paperwork please, I'm about to drown in this stuff as it is," //_and I've _already_ shoved off as much as I could to Iruka…geez, no one actually expects me to _read_ all this, do they?  It's all junk!  Firewood!  …_Firewood_.  Yeah.  We could use a nice barbeque...mmm.//_

"Mission went." Neji stated dryly cold.

"How?  Did they jump out of the water and do a little dance for you?"

"No.  But Sasuke's slacking off—I'm not sure what's wrong with him, but he put the mission at risk, as well as the team.  Ino's still in…medical care."

"I heard you were the one not responding."

"That's because I was underwater at the time, _sir_.  Attempted murder by drowning.  It didn't work quite right."

"And he didn't catch that?"  
  


"Wouldn't know.  He might have and not cared enough to do anything about it.  They weren't as strong as you led us to believe, and yet for _some_ reason the mission almost killed us, despite requiring a lower level of ability."  Neji allowed a significant pause, and Kakashi ruffled through papers that he had every intention of burning later for the look of things.  

"I ask he be taken off the team, and the team itself disbanded.  Temporarily, _perhaps_.  As he is, Sasuke Uchiha isn't fit to be on team missions, much less solitary ones.  Missions of two people are too risky—Ino's not strong enough by herself and no one else is fit."  _//I won't take Hinata.  I'll forfeit the damn thing before you make me work with _her_._//

"That's your evaluation of it," and the words _Not mine_ hung unspoken in the air.  "How did you react when the dust settled?  How did he react?"

Neji shrugged, "Ino yelled at him.  I stood by, as no further comment was required.  His reaction was…mild, if not nonexistent.  I doubt missions are the most pressing issue for him to be facing at the moment, and not a high priority."  And now it was Neji's unspoken words of _And I have no idea what _other_ damn issues he's facing, the ass hole_, hung in the air.  

Kakashi nodded half-awake, and then threw the papers back on the table.  Had there ever been a murder case where someone was suffocated with paper?  Probably.  What an evil, evil creation.  Death by paper work.

It killed trees too; Kakashi would bet solid _money_ (that he had no intention of ever paying up on) that not one of the clients thought for one _minute_ about all the trees they were killing with all their little demands.  Killing lots and lots of trees!

And…what?  Oh yeah, Neji was still standing there.  Right.  Waiting for him.  …Right.  Yeehaw, Hokage—just what he had never wanted to be.  Gee golly wow.  

"Granted.  For at least this week, maybe longer.  We can survive on what we have for a while."

"What about the demons?" and even Neji would admit that it was unusual for him to be worried about somebody else, but he was interested to know what Kakashi would say.  He was also a bit surprised Kakashi had relented so quickly and realized…Kakashi probably hadn't relented at all.  He'd been there when they'd brought Ino in.  He'd been planning this earlier—Neji was simply in the right place at the right time for him to act.

"It's not like people don't have _other_ places to turn to, is it?  This mermaid job should've been given to the Mist Village, but I guess we're charging less then they are.  Maybe they don't do group discounts or whatever…but only the Leaf, Sand, and Stone were taken out.  The Mist, Grass, Lightening, hell, even the _Sound_ were left intact.  There are others…and they've forgotten about us pretty cleanly, can't help noticing.  Not even a little 'Hello, How Are You?' card with kittens on it."

Neji was already too pessimistic and observant to _not_ notice that also, so there was no danger of destroying morale in _him_.  And it was a fact that had been niggling at the back of Kakashi's mind.  It was true that when the stakes were down it was every village and clan for itself, but a _little_ cooperation would've saved a lot of lives and money in the long run.  But for some strange, indiscernible reason, people just weren't feeling inclined to helping a neighbor out.  Funny world.

"So we're disbanded then?"

"Sure, go out partying or something.  Get drunk, relax…" Kakashi shrugged and picked up another paper, "take a nap.  We're not doing anything for a while.  We can afford it, and I think we need it more than a little."

"We've progressed quickly," Neji observed with some irony.  Not two months ago there was still the smell of smoke in the air, and to look at them now one might think there had never been a problem at all.  Sasuke was as crazy as ever, Iruka back to talking and fulfilling his academic default by looking after Lee, and Ino still bitched at every available occasion when she wasn't squealing over some new dress.  Shikamaru was sleeping somewhere right now, avoiding work fervently probably on the roof despite his leg.  

Or at least, that was what Neji had been thinking.  But Neji was relatively young, even for a ninja, and in sheer distrust and disappointment with the human race and its intelligence and compassion Kakashi outranked him in by a supernova.  He just didn't show it as much, because it wasn't always useful.  Which was why his final question caught Neji off guard, even though the temperature had gone done warningly.

"Have we?"

Neji blinked—a rare feat.  "Well, we're self-sufficient now…" His words died in his throat not strangled from fear, but from lack of interest to get out.  Kakashi tilted his head sharply like a bird.

"Is that progress?  Are we better than we were?"

It was a big question.

Neji stared at him for a while, and then decided somewhere in the back of his head that having Gai-sensei (queer, thunderous, and just plain **_ODD _**Gai-sensei (don't say 'queer', that always pissed Lee off to obscene levels of loudness)) must've been a lot better than having Kakashi as an instructor.  The man saw too much.

Neji nodded curtly, and then walked out without a word.  

Kakashi stared after him contemplatively for about 1/4 of a second before collecting a pile of useless-seeming paper and rummaging in his pockets for some matches.  He'd talk to Sasuke later, and either be walked-out on again or wind up getting into a fight with him.  Right now, a million trees were saying, "I don't want to be pulp!  Don't let me be pulp!" too loudly for him to really concentrate on anything else.  Trees!  People needed trees!

He never found the matches, but found a brand new use for his blender that even a million _years_ would've taken him a good 10 minutes more to figure out how the thing worked than it did now.  

Paper-mache…oooh.  The possi_bilities_.

***

Across the years, people have long sought the perfect description for the sound of rain falling. It's been described as a pattering of feet, drumming, a quiet rushing, tiny pebbles, but the truth is that nothing quite simulates the sound of rain falling. The rain was falling now.

Gaara's eyes slid open, before blinking and turning to look at the window. He hated and loved this apartment, because windows made it too easy for people to break in and he could look out at the world outside from his spot on the bed next to Naruto, see the world while still feeling safe and comfortable. 

Naruto's eyes looked a little tired, but he still winked at Gaara, the corner of his mouth turning up.  Hard aquamarine eyes looked rigidly at him, before disengaging all his limbs and pushing himself out of bed.

Naruto blinked absently for a few seconds, before shifting to stretch and yawn. It wasn't like Gaara to say 'Thank You' for anything; he really couldn't be expected to start now, could he? His boxers hit him in the mouth.

Gagging, he snatched them from his face to see Gaara standing by the open window, already clothed in some shorts and his shirt and staring at him with that bright hard look. Naruto sat up in bed. Gaara slipped out the window.

A few minutes later, Naruto was flinching as drops of very, very cold water were hitting his face. Gaara was clinging to the wall by the window, his shirt shoulders and blood-red hair already damp, and staring at Naruto with that bright hard look on his face. Naruto sighed heavily, and ducked his head back inside.

A few minutes later, he stuck his head out again to find bright eyes staring up at him from the street below. Gaara had strange eyes; nearly blue, but with a touch of green rimmed with the heavy black markings that made his eyes seem brighter and bigger and his face paler. Naruto threw down a pair of sandals before dropping down.

He was shoved up against the wall as soon as he stood up, Gaara's mouth covering his. 

They strolled out of the alley into the street a little ruffled in perfect silence, Naruto's shoulder and arm sometimes brushing against Gaara's until he suddenly jumped and splashed Gaara with a puddle and was shoved roughly into the street. 

Naruto strolled comfortably like that for a while, until dashing and splashing Gaara up to the waist. They were both already wet, but it just felt good to irritate him. Naruto steeled himself for an attack, eyes bright and light on his toes, and Gaara suddenly---scowled and stuck his tongue out.

Naruto paused. Face faulted. Before completely collapsing and broke out laughing. Gaara just snorted softly, as the echoes of hysterical laughter bounced off the walls, and kept walking.

Rain would never stop city life, but it did slow it down. They had some time before the late-night/early-morning wore off and people really started trudging out into work and taking up space. 

Presently, Naruto returned to his side, thoroughly wet as he was. 

Again his shoulder brushed his, but this time Naruto stumbled as he was pushed slightly back into the street. It could have been an accident, it could have been intentional. Gaara glanced at him briefly before returning his attention to wherever. He was slammed into the wall, Naruto sprinting ahead, Gaara so close to his heels he was still getting splashed.

Leaping and scaling up building sides in blinding bursts of speeds, Gaara clipping Naruto's ankle and yanking him down in mid-air, glinting just out of reach as the edge of Naruto's hand came slicing at his chin.

Tag! You're it! 

***

There were various times when Naruto would wake up, reach out, and touch only the empty bed.  He'd be alone—all traces of Gaara gone.

The sand demon never carried much: just a bit of sand for water or rock terrain (and even then he was still hard to fight), a few changes of clothes in an old black backpack, and himself.  

When Gaara wanted to leave, he left.

It was just something about him—it was pain to deal with, but for as long as Naruto had known him, Gaara had never been reliable, not really, not even when he was a 'team member' with Temari and Kankuro, still _officially_ working for the Sand.  As Naruto's semi-equal/semi-second-in-command, he'd done the same disappearing trick, showing up again when he felt like it.  Perhaps it was a bit much to expect him to make such a drastic change just because they had sex now.

Still, it would have been nice for him to be there more often, but you couldn't change people.

It was one of the reasons—one of the many—Gaara never saw Naruto sink into himself.  One of the ways Gaara broke his promise.

You couldn't change people, and neither did.

***

There was a room.  It was a little dusty, with a thick curtain securely draped over the one big window in the apartment.  

There were the basic necessities—bathroom, kitchen, table, bed, lamp, and small dresser for clothes.

It was funny, because…actually it wasn't funny at all.  Only it was.  Only it could be, if he knew how to laugh.  If he had a sense of humor at all.

But Kakashi was too damn clever for his own good.

Really.  It wasn't that he planned elaborately, or that he was a wiz with words, because he wasn't.  What Kakashi _was_, was observant.  He had taken away the missions, the reports, and told them to take a break for, oh about…um…yeah.  About four days.  Four days sounded good.  

That was what he had said six days ago, and so far nothing had happened.

Sasuke had lost the unnatural, destructive anger the same day Naruto lost nearly half of his blood.  Now, Kakashi had taken away the missions—his point for being.  There was still his _life_ mission, the personal one, the _family_ one, but that was something not even _Sasuke_ wanted to think about just then.  There was so much more to feel, to think about, that opening that door would be far too painful right then.  If he hadn't fallen off the deep-end yet, the thought of his brother _now_, now that he was alone, would really push him the rest of the way.

Sasuke had never put in the effort to make friends, associates, to construct the invisible bonds that held people together.

The only one to really _make_ him say Hello, to really get him to leave his house for more than just training, had been Sakura, mostly because she wouldn't go away until he did.  Because she had seen what he was—really—and who he was, and for whatever reason, be it love or stupidity, wouldn't give up on him.  He was cruel enough to still reject her, but not so much that he'd turn her away once she started crying.  

Naruto, by that point, had been so far away he might've been dead, and Sasuke treated it as such.  People died all the time—he knew that.  Oh, he _knew_ that.

Still…Kakashi was too damn clever.  He had made his point, dished out the punishment, but still hadn't bothered to come see him, to be sarcastic at him or grown-up.  Hadn't even tried.  He had made his point, and left Sasuke to think about it, long and hard.  His point came across quite well.  

Sasuke didn't really have a life anymore.

***

So, without need, without the aching hunger, there was no pain.

So, without drive, without reason, there was no purpose.  

So, the journey continued.

The journey that wasn't going anywhere except everywhere that wasn't here, somewhere without trees that reached into the clouds themselves and sang lazy slow songs in the afternoon breeze.  Anywhere without girls with pink hair and pleasant laughs, without boys with sharp eyes and sharper tongues.  Naruto even avoided the taste of ramen.  Wouldn't eat it even if Gaara got it for him.

In all honesty, Gaara hadn't been expecting a shock—this was unfamiliar territory to him.  He was even less equipped to maneuver in another's depression than he was in sensing it.  

Gaara had nothing to avoid—everything that could be feared or could be considered dangerous was destroyed and already dead to him.  Now there was only one thing left worth having, one thing worth keeping, and he wasn't sleeping much and eating less than that, though Naruto still smiled and joked.  Gaara barely knew how to comfort himself, much less the boy (the boy who destroyed everything he had loved and hated save one, save one precious _dangerous_ one that alone went unscathed) he found himself following Naruto everywhere like a lost wolf—there when Gaara hurt and wanted company, and away when Gaara lost interest.

If the suffocating obsessive-compulsive loyalty annoyed Naruto, he didn't show it.  And Gaara watched for it, watched his movements and how his eyes went to him and away, laughing painfully but sometimes relaxed, peaceful for a few minutes in Gaara's arms, his neck damp with sweat and purring slightly with relief and pleasure.  It made him…it made him a little proud that he could bring Naruto relief—bring _anyone_ relief.  

Then Gaara would wonder if Naruto was pretending he was in someone else's arms.

The sex was still fantastic, needy and eager like the teenagers they were, exploring how far one's tongue could go into a certain orifice and how deep one could swallow the other.

But Naruto was still badly damaged—nearly as bad as he had first been in the cheap hotel room that smelled like suicide and liquor.  So even though Gaara had him—had him, had him all to _himself_, his to hold, his to touch, his to kiss, _his_—Naruto still wasn't healing right.  Eating made him happy for a little while, as did alcohol and sex and killing sprees, but the truth was that the happiness never stayed.  

It just…didn't _stay_.  

And for the life of him—because now Naruto _was_ that important, was that deep a part of him—Gaara couldn't figure out what was eating him, because Gaara had only felt true regret once in his life: When Yashamura died by his hand.  One might say that Gaara's humanity had died with her that night.

Whatever Naruto was suffering from, Gaara couldn't understand, because Naruto was nowhere near as inhuman as Gaara was.  

So the sex remained—the kissing, the touching—but the late-night talks over a glass of rice-wine or sake that had characterized their early, long-lasting relationship just _ended_.  Naruto didn't talk much anymore—wouldn't talk much anymore, and Gaara had no idea what questions to ask, what words to say…  In all fairness, Gaara barely realized there _were_ words he was supposed to be saying.  

So the words were never said at all.

The movie had been all right, but in all truth it really wasn't either's cup of tea.  It wasn't the ghosts or the gore it was more…the main character.  A boy who could see ghosts, who stood out in a crowd of millions and haunted by things no one else could see…that was entirely too close to home.  They had left early, and Naruto couldn't even make some cheap joke, but he'd called the kid a "wimp" later on.  

After a while walking side by side in silence, Naruto had glanced to his side and silently put his hand in Gaara's.  It was squeezed painfully, and they made their way into the rich suburban part of the town, breaking into an empty house (Gaara had killed the dog and family minutes before they entered.  Naruto didn't comment, only closed his eyes and squeezed his hand) through the backdoor, noting the luxurious three stories and red-tile roof complete with a heated chlorine pool in the backyard.

The fridge was investigated and raided, two boys drinking milk straight from the carton, poking into the odd casserole and inhaling the gallon of coconut ice-cream in the freezer (next to slushees, Gaara liked ice-cream.  Anything cold and sweet, Naruto learned with a thrill).  

Later sated, now naked to the waist, lips and wrists bruised, covered in ice-cream and whipped cream that Naruto picked from his hair to lick off his fingers, they wandered out-of-doors to the heated pool.  Naruto stepped on the water's surface and it easily supported his weight, small ripples undulating as he took his shoes off and threw them on the peppled edge.

Gaara had his head tilted to look at the night sky—still balmy in the southern part of the country even though winter was pretty much here, back in the richer areas of the Desert he might've called home.  Palm trees stood still as there was no breeze, and there was the faint smell of something like rosemary on the dry air—probably from the herb garden on the side.  Time had been good to Gaara, his time with Naruto doing nothing much really.

The burn-marks and scars were practically gone, and there was an easy, tolerant light in his eyes that hadn't been there before.  His jaw didn't clench and his lips weren't strained anymore—the anger had been beaten out of them with too many kisses and too much chatting and the rare smile.  Gaara still didn't laugh (at least not when he was sane) but it wasn't so impossible to imagine anymore.  He dressed better now too—his clothes were often new, though they didn't stay that way long.  

And if one stopped…just stopped _thinking_ about the past and what he had been and how fucking _ugly_ he could get when he was angry and what a vicious little bastard Gaara could be one really had to admit that he really…

He really could be quite handsome.

Naruto caught himself staring, at the delicacy of his neck and the quiet brutal intelligence in teal eyes, at the fact that his hair would always look blood-red and a little crinkly against his skin that _still_ didn't have a scar…

Naruto grinned suddenly, a blush on his cheeks.  Gaara was watching him watch _him_ through the corner of his eye, and the edge of his lip twitched ever so slightly in response.  

"Find something interesting up there?" Naruto drawled carelessly as he pointedly undid the button holding his blue jeans up, fingers playing more on his stomach than on working the pants off.  

Gaara arched one eyebrow, "Maybe.  There's a storm coming soon—probably hit tonight.  Should get inside," but he stepped onto the water's surface anyway, lighted a pale blue color from underwater lamps.

"Nah, let's stay outside—haven't you ever wanted to have sex in the rain?"

"No, not particularly.  It'll get muddy…" but there wasn't much conviction in his voice.  He brushed his nose against Naruto's, not so very interested in sex right then…not really.  Just wanted to kiss him…just wanted to feel him care about him, feel him tease him.  

Just, really, wanted to touch him.  Wanted to know he wasn't alone.  

When Naruto pushed him though, forced him, Gaara didn't fight.  He couldn't help Naruto fight the things that were in his head, the things that kept him awake at night and silent, so he didn't stop him from getting what he wanted.  He _needed_ Naruto stay with him, needed him there, so he didn't stop him from getting anything he wanted.

It was possible Naruto didn't hurt him intentionally, but even if he was, even if he did, Gaara wouldn't stop him.  

***

_Why didn't you kill me?_

"I…I don't know," and Naruto scuffed the grass under his sneakers distractedly.

_You had the chance.  What are you waiting for?_

"I don't think I actually said I was _going_ to.  I never…I never planned to kill you.  Really—not seriously.  It crossed my mind, but my position of power was a lot different from yours.  It's different when you're calling the shots, when all the responsibility is on _you_…I had to cover all bases, think of everything," Naruto shrugged, not quite apologizing but not proud.

_You've never taken responsibility for a damn thing in your_ life, _traitor.  Don't come to me with that._

Naruto turned his head and sniffed disdainfully, "You're a fine one to talk—most people have a few skeletons in their closet, you've got a whole graveyard, Mr. I'm Going To Be A Creepy Snake-Guy When I Grow Up So I Can Beat The Crap Outta My Brother.  We're the same like that.  We're still the same like that."

_We are **nothing** alike!!  Nothing!  I had my reasons—and I never killed indiscriminately, I never lost my mind and soul for something so cheap as _that_.  I was willing to _sell_ my soul to get what I needed: I'd never throw it away like you did.  _Never_.  We're _nothing_ alike.  _

He couldn't see Naruto's face, but he still knew that Naruto was rolling his eyes exasperated.

_You own Hell._  Hell.  _You've got your own little Holocaust to your name, your own people—_

"Not mine."

_-- your demon soul be damned for it.  So stop dodging it…there's only one thing I want to know from you now: Why'd you let me live?_

Naruto kept his arms crossed tightly in front of him even the sun wasn't cold nor the wind strong—there was only a faint stain of ash on it, a stain that had vanished from the real air, but not the choked-dead space behind Sasuke's eyes.  He hesitated, considered, and then said, "You can't honestly expect me to answer that.  I'm not going to answer that.  I'm a little crazy, I'll admit I _went_ a little crazy, but you don't actually _expect_ me to answer that."

_Why not?  With everything you shoved down my throat, with everything you shoved **into** me…_  

There bitterness was palpable—almost as bad as feeling a cancer consume his heart at a million cells a split-second.  Naruto knew the rules, deep down.  One didn't spend so much time with the wild-folk without learning them, and even a hybrid and alien of two worlds had to admit that there was something to the Rules.  He owed Sasuke something of an explanation…something.  He owed him something.  What it was though, what he _gave_ Sasuke, was absolutely up to him.

"I…I can't tell you.  You can cut my head off Sasuke…you can cut me and hurt me, but you can't kill me.  I can't die anymore—I'm not gonna risk it by giving you _that_ bit of information.  You'd _really_ get me then, and there wouldn't be any death waiting for me when the pain was too much—you could make my life a living Hell with that answer, so I'm not gonna give it to you.  My life's bad enough as it is—I don't need you making it worse."

_You selfish self-centered son of a_ bitch_!  That's all you can _ever_ think about!  You!  It's—_

"Trust me, I didn't have a mother at all.  And if I did, she wouldn't be a bitch; she'd be a vixen.  They're different," but Naruto didn't raise his head.  His shoulders stayed slanted and his head hanging, defeated.  "You won Sasuke.  Get over it."

_I won?_  I _won?  What are you on now?  You _raped_ me._

Naruto lifted his head up to the sky, but he still couldn't see his face, "You won.  I won against the village, you won against me.  Hurrah.  So we both got what we were after, who we were after…  Tell me Sasuke.  I mean, I'm just curious.  A little.  Are you happy?"

_Fuck you._

"Not now.  No fighting, not here.  There's enough real life for that sort of thing…"

_…this isn't real.  This is another illusion._

"Nnn…not quite.  This is a dream.  Your dream—I'm just a tourist.  Maybe you created me, maybe I'm the dead ghost of your old rival back to torment you," Naruto closed his eyes, gaping red moist hole slashed in front of his throat and staining his orange shirt, "but I…I really don't feel like fighting."

_I told you.  Fuck you.  Get_ out.

"Not so easy—just tell me.  Are you happy?  Is this…I mean a year ago--hell, _four months_ ago…did you ever think it'd be this way?  Like this?  I mean I know…I didn't."

_What_ were _you expecting then?  Balloons?  Jelly?  Death?_

"Death," Naruto agreed.  "I was sure the ero-sennin and the old-hag would be able to kill me, I mean, they practically _raised_ me; if anyone shoulda been able to kill me, it shoulda been them."  There was stale green bitterness in Naruto's voice, like rotten pistachio nuts, "Wasn't though—it was you.  Can't say I'm surprised."

_Why'd you do it then?_

And for once, Sasuke's patience held, watching the ghostly silhouette of Naruto's body against the plain white sky, his hands shoved lanky-like into his pockets and his back curved.  It was a long time before Naruto answered, and it wasn't the answer he'd given Iruka, nor the answer he'd given himself when he first started out.

"Because I had to."

Sasuke didn't even have a body, not like Naruto did.  He was just a hovering consciousness in his own mind, watching Naruto and talking to him.  He never saw his face, never saw his eyes, because they were obscured somehow.  

Sasuke had spent a good deal of his life reading his partner—he would've been tricked into buying far more ramen than his pocket could afford if he hadn't.  He knew when Naruto was lying, and when he wasn't.

_No.  You didn't._

_You wanted to._

Naruto didn't disagree.  He didn't move in fact—there wasn't even a reaction.  Somehow, Sasuke would have felt better for a reaction.  

"So," Naruto said non-commitedly, because the silence was painfully sharp.  But he didn't continue, and Sasuke said nothing at all.

If there was any doubt Naruto had been lying before, that he'd been a puppet of the demon fox against his will or oblivious to the fact before—it was absolutely erased.  In Sasuke's mind, in Naruto's—for all purposes and intents.  

"What if I did want to?"

It was a gamble, and they both knew it.  Cold dead silence met it.

Naruto had lost again, but nobody knew if it was Sasuke who had won.

The blonde teen shook himself visibly, and rubbed his left arm.  "I answered your question.  You answer my mine."

_Which one?_

"What did you expect to come out of this fiasco?"

_You lied on your answer.  I can lie on mine._

"Can't stop you."

_…I expected you to die too._

Naruto's shoulders bounced up once like he was laughing, "Oh yeah?  Hehe…think: it's so funny that neither of us was right, huh?  Geez…what a crazy world.  Just can't tell what it's thinking, sometimes."

_I expected to die too.  Reasonably._

Naruto turned to kick the nauseatingly green grass again, and shrugged.  "Well…weird things happen.  You didn't, I didn't…that's it.  It was most everyone else who died, except for the two traitorous bastards who deserved it the most…" even though Sasuke couldn't see it, he could still feel that cheeky smile flashed at him.  "That's us."

_We're nothing alike._

"No.  No we're not.  But we're more alike than we wanna admit, more than anyone else out there…even old Gaara-kun isn't alike to me as you are.  At least he's…he's got a good heart, underneath it all.  He's an innocent old softy, really, just got one hell of a bite," and the invisible rueful, slightly jealous and bitter smile was tangible in the Dream air.  "I'm not innocent.  You're not either."

_We're nothing alike._

"Hn," Naruto stretched his arms and twisted his back, "whatever Sasuke.  I'm not gonna twist your arm over it."

There were some things that shouldn't be done, no matter what.  But many of those things were done anyway, because they had to be.  It wasn't much of a decision, just a conscious necessity, like urinating or bathing.  What Sasuke said next was an example one such thing.

_I always expected to wind up in bed with you.  Somehow.  _

_Perhaps as rape, definitely not sober, and probably not as friends but maybe so…but I knew…  From the moment I saw you standing there, in the stone hall dressed in red and black with that fucking goddamned smile on your twisted lips I knew I'd have sex with you before I died.  One way or the other._

_I just…wasn't expecting it to happen and be so…_

_So _aware_ of what was going on.  For it to feel the way it did.  I…I could've stopped you.  I was never helpless.  I'm never helpless._

_Did you know that?_

"…no.  No I didn't.  I…"

The bottom had fallen out of Naruto's world.

Sasuke watched on dispassionately, as an observer, not as a participator in the pain nor torment.

Shell-shocked would have been an appropriate word to use, as cold and distant as it sounded.

"Did…did you _want_ to?"

It wasn't possible for Sasuke to shrug, since he didn't have a corporeal body, but the sentiment still came through.  

_It doesn't matter._

"It matters to me.  It fucking matters to _me_ Sasuke!  Did…did you…"

_That's none of your business._

_You never said why you spared me.  You lied when I asked you why you committed genocide.  I don't have to tell_ you _a damned thing, demon._

"You son of a bitch."

_I_ knew _my mother.  She was a proper lady, human as well, not that you'd know anything of that._

Naruto bounced back, perhaps a bit clumsily, but he bounced back.  He was good at bouncing back.  "So I die, you die, and somewhere before that we have sex?  _That_ was your plan?  That was your great plan?  Geez Sasuke…you sure know how to pick 'em."

_Go away._

Naruto hesitated, then his shoulders bounced like he had laughed again.  "Sure thing Sasuke.  After all, it's only a dream, right?  Have a fucking nice day."  The world went dark, swallowing the misty figure bleeding blood onto the grass, showing nothing at all.

And then Sasuke woke up, the pillow under him and the bed small and empty.  His body was there as he touched himself nervously, not bothering to sit up, just unsure if his heart was still beating or not.  His skin was clammy and flat.  The air was cold, and bothered his nose, but he didn't burrow under the sheets, since they seemed colder than the air, with only his own body heat.

Eventually, he got himself up and into the shower, turning the water to scalding hot before getting in.

Several miles and many hours journey away, by Gaara's side, Naruto opened his eyes a slip of the way, not looking at anything in particular, but running from the darkness behind his eyelids.  

The taller pale boy (Naruto wondered if there was some sort of irony at work here) ran his hand through his hair, rubbing Naruto's temples with his thumb—there was no doubt Gaara had been watching the whole thing.  Naruto didn't even know if he had talked in his sleep.  He could've, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it now.  Instead Naruto pressed his face into the spot below Gaara's neck, and closed his eyes.

The air was thick with words that were not said, with words that Naruto could not pick out of the one of the few minds locked to him and the only mind he _needed_ to be reading at all.  The only one he might've been able to help at all right then.   Shukaku cannot be blamed for this.  

And so Gaara steadily broke _his_ promise, and was too much in something he might've described as 'love' to himself with Naruto keep it.

***

"Why don't you talk to him?" Gaara asked casually, closely inspecting the bottle in his hand while he asked it.  

Naruto grinned impishly at, and kicked his heels against the building.  Sugar always put him in a good mood for a little while.  "How do you know I _haven't_ talked to him?"  
  
There was only one guy Gaara would ever bring up with that clinical, uncaring tone in his voice.  Only one guy Gaara ever really bothered to talk about at all, really.  He didn't know about Iruka, and Naruto had never really explained.  He wouldn't ask.

They sat on the edge of one of the really _tall _buildings, seven floors total with half-empty bottles in their hands and two more in the cardboard crate.  The sky was a comfortable velvet black with navy highlights, impossibly white and tiny stars hanging on invisible threads.  Pale city lights and muffled sounds came from down below their feet, traffic in the early morning-late night oozing through the oily streets.  Slow classical piano music was coming from the fifth floor by a fellow insomniac.  

"Because you won't stop moping."

Sharp lime green shot through with pale sapphire offered no further explanation when Naruto shot him a sharp glance.  Had anyone _ever_ identified the color of Gaara's eyes?  "All you do is think of him," Gaara added on a gamble, not completely sure, but pretty _damn_ sure and a little angry about it in a hopeless way.

Naruto didn't answer immediately.  He was still wary of Gaara's emotions, though he tried not to be.

Jealous of Sasuke.  Oh god, not _again_…  It was something _he_ didn't want to talk about, something Gaara didn't need to _hear_ about, but…  But…why not take the chance?  Maybe it'd get Gaara off his case for once.  And—he really wanted someone to talk to.  Talking to Gaara had always been easy; it'd been getting him to understand anything he didn't want to or didn't care about that had always been a pain in the neck.

"You know he was the only…" Naruto fiddled with the bottle's lip, "Only one who ever really hated me…because I was _me_?  Not the kyubbi like everyone else did, or 'cause I was just some loser."  
  
When in his memory had he ever given Sasuke the submissive respectful worship everyone else had?  When had he been anything but rebellious, aggressive?  He had admired him, sure, but he would _still_ show him up whenever possible.  Or try to, at least.

"He always saw me.  Maybe 'cause he grew up alone; no parents to tell him not to talk to the weirdo.  Even when I started growing stronger…started showing…what I really _was_…He never did figure it out.  Really.  He thought that power was mine.  He felt that power, that hatred…"

Naruto fell silent.  The stars shone.  People lived.  The atmosphere closed in, and Gaara waited.  There was a lightening quick painful smile on Naruto's lips, and his eyes shone with memory.

"He thought it was me.  Thought—Good old Naruto Uzumaki could do that, somehow.  Could feel that… Hated me for it.  For passing him up.  I did what he couldn't.  And he never really guessed…that it wasn't me."

Gaara sat still, and silent, but that was no different from before.  But he looked at Naruto differently, and understood.  He was Shukaku to everyone else long before he was ever Gaara to anyone, even to those closest to him—Yashamura and Temari, though sometimes he wasn't sure about that.  To have that type of acknowledgement…that _was_ existing.  

And it wasn't all hate Gaara knew--he knew pure hate when he saw it, and it wasn't _just_ hate, though they were drowning in it…  None of that was very good for _his_ interest though.  

He had Naruto all to himself before.  And now he was going away he was going away again, inside his head.  Had been going away for a while, and for a long while he'd done nothing about it because he didn't know _what_ to do—he still didn't.  Sasuke always had something to do with it.  Always.  Naruto was silent still.

"I saw you.  When I met you."

Naruto grinned sardonically.  "Gaara-kun, you thought I was a _punk_ when you first saw me.  You were too busy wanting to kick Sasuke's ass."

"You thought I was a freak when you met _me_."

Naruto seemed to panic a little, a little bit of welcome life and goofiness coming back into his eyes.  "Well…Yea~ah, but you snuck up on us, damn it!  _And_ you were hanging off the tree and you were just being, you know…" Naruto's hands fluttered, "Weird!  I mean I…I don't think you're a freak _anymore_ though."

So sensitive.  He stretched out the tension a little longer, just for the hell of it.  Naruto nearly looked contrite.  "I mean I--"

"I still think you're a punk."  

Naruto blinked, face faulted and blanked quickly, before swearing loudly, "Jerk!" and sticking his tongue out at him, turning his head away to take a big swallow of Peaches & Cream soda.  Gaara had Orange & Cream.  It was revoltingly too sweet.  Gaara relaxed; Naruto smiling a little now, rueful and sharp, but smiling still as he kicked his heels and stared out at the lights. 

The stars were pretty, and bright.  God, they were so very pretty.  So far away from everything and they were always there, even when you couldn't see them.  They were always there; they didn't go anywhere or run away or say stupid things or cut anyone's throat at all.  They just…were pretty.  

Naruto was captivated.

Presently, he reached out his arm upward, fingers extended and stretched.  

He wanted to hurt him.  He wanted to kill him.  He wanted to make him bleed, because it felt _good_ to destroy something beautiful.  Because there was something hauntingly irresistible about fallen angels.  Because it gave him power.  Because it made him _stronger_.  

Naruto stretched his arm out further, trying to touch the stars.

He wanted to leave him.  He wanted to fuck him, over and over and over again.  He wanted to make him writhe in pleasure, screaming in ecstasy, to forget everything and everyone except for the feelings he was evoking, he was creating.  He wanted to kiss him, gently and hard and madly and as often as he could.  

He wanted his rare small smile and sarcasm, quiet strength and unshakeable trust and constant aggressive friendship and tragedy and pain and loneliness and hate and…

Naruto wanted to scream.  

"They're pretty, aren't they?"

Naruto didn't answer.  He couldn't stretch any further.  This was as far as his arm went.

Gaara was glaring at him darkly.  "Idiot."

Naruto didn't even turn his eyes.

Gaara's fist knocked into his jaw, sending him flying out over the empty space and the lights and action of the city.  For a few seconds Naruto was without gravity, and he wondered if this was what freedom felt like, seeing the world far below you and feeling nothing at all…

White fingers gripped his jacket when it became apparent that Naruto _wasn't_ going to try and get back on his own, twisted him hard in the air and threw him down wrestler-style, the roof crashing into Naruto's face, the gravel digging into his skin as he skidded back, his jaw feeling pain _now_.  There was a vision of a dark figure outlined by the city lights and stars approaching him, vibrant green eyes blazing…Naruto rolled so he was slightly crouched with one foot on the ground and the other under him and _not_ on his knees or his back because adore Gaara as he might, they were still demons.  

But Naruto didn't bother to adapt a defensive position.  He waited where he was, how he was, and was not afraid.  His attention was half on the green eyes, half on the stars behind.

Gaara stopped in front of him.  Silence for a few seconds.

"Talk to me," Gaara said softly.  

Nothing.  Not even the piano playing anymore.

"You make me nervous.  Talk to me."

He didn't wince at the admission, but Naruto let his eyes fall.  He talked.

"I'd kill him if I could.  If he were right downstairs I'd be down there in a blink.  I want to kill him.  I want to end him.  I want to end _this_!" Naruto did scream.  "I don't want to dance anymore, not like this!  I can kill him, you know.  Too easily.  I hadta be careful I didn't on _accident_.  I want to.  I can.  I _should_."  

Nothing.  A faint squeal of tires from below as a stoplight was run or someone was killed.  Or both.  Gaara's constant questionable place beside him, sometimes there and sometimes not.  

"If he were down stairs…" Gaara started slowly, watching for a reaction Naruto didn't give.  "You wouldn't.  You can't."

Nothing.  Not the slightest hint of denial, really.  

"And if I tried it… You'd fight me for him.  Just like before.  He's tearing you apart, but you'd still die for him, kill for him.  Kill me."

Nothing.  Complete lack of a twitch.

"_Especially_ me."  
  


"No."

"You would."

"No.  I wouldn't kill you.  I don't hurt you.  You're crazy."

"You have before, Naruto," Gaara stated, using his name on purpose.  Stretching it on purpose, because…because it had been so long since anyone had called him by his given name, by his human name, that Naruto had started to forget it.  

Blank and very bright blue eyes stabbed his.  He had left Gaara to die while he went to hold onto Sasuke.  He might've abandoned him completely if he hadn't still been useful, if he had lost Sasuke anyway.  With all this time, and Naruto had never put as much effort into making Gaara smile as he foolishly had into making Sasuke need him.  

"You'd fight," Gaara continued, more than a little sure.  "If I were serious, you'd kill me."

"No."

"Liar," Gaara spat firmly, softly, before pivoting on his heel and walking off the roof along the wall away from the street.  He didn't have the patience for this; he didn't need this crap.

Naruto didn't watch him leave.  After a while though, he turned to look back up the stars.  Alone.  Alone again.

***

They had returned to the desert on Gaara's request: he had thought it'd get Naruto's mind off the trees.  But the stars were brighter in the desert than they were in the city, and Naruto's insomnia was starting to rival his own.

When it came to words, things deep and comforting, drops of water that healed the soul, Gaara really didn't know what to do.  What he did know was that when he got pissed off enough it was time to take it out of the closest thing possible.  

Naruto was always convenient, which may or may not explain the towering towers of melted warped glass that now towered amongst the desert dunes and were shattered with remarkable regularity and accuracy the night he did attack.  Finally break the silence with a scream.  The scream belonged to someone else.

The two demons were fighting, and making sure everyone knew about it.

Occasionally, an inhuman scream would break the sound of explosions and impact of sand hitting a wall of fire.  They strayed too closely to a town (deliberately? Towns were pretty scarce to find in the desert, and Naruto had to wonder how deliberately Gaara had planned it all), because fights wandered in area among animals.  Blood that wasn't demonic at all painted them now.

Naruto remembered the air slamming out of his lungs as his back hit something hard (adobe brick) that fell back a little under his weight and momentum.  He remembered looking off to his side and seeing…something that wasn't Gaara.  Someone that wasn't Gaara, wasn't Sasuke, wasn't Sakura nor Kakashi nor Iruka nor Konohamaru or anyone he knew lying in the rubble, the chest a punctured red cheese-board-looking thing.  One hand was still moving though.  

And Naruto was even more surprised to find that he, himself, had no impulse to help it.  No impulse whatso_ever_.  He wondered what could be causing the hand to move, //_Rigor mortis?  Muscle spasm?  Remains of a nervous attack?_// but as for _helping_ it, for even easing the pain for an easy death…

There was a surprising lack of compassion on his part.

There was mercy in an easy death.  It was an easy, cheap mercy for one used to killing without mercy.  But Naruto, as he watched himself watch the child with the cheese-board chest, didn't even feel the _urge_.  Not even a hint.  He would've eaten a bag of potato chips in front of him without question before he helped that kid with the cheese-board chest.  

It wasn't that he was so badly hurt that he _couldn't_ get up—he just…didn't see the reason why he should.  What was one life, compared to hundreds?  Demons couldn't save _anything_, not even themselves—they could only destroy.  Anything they owned, they destroyed.  Anything and everything, and hadn't Naruto found that out yet?  Didn't he know that already?  Should have—he'd done it and destroyed every single thing he had, right down to his own body and neck.

Then the kid died.

Naruto turned his head and looked up against the crescent moon that Gaara was theatrically standing in front of.  Sand slid on and off of him like water, lapping up blood that Gaara's own tongue stole out of his mouth to lap off his lips and cheek.  He looked amused.  Gaara was the first to speak, jerking his head at the kid that had captivated Naruto's wayward attention for the better of 10 minutes.

"Enjoy that, did you?"

"Tactless.  You wasted time," Naruto answered without feeling.

"It's mine to waste.  And I don't see what you're complaining about.  You've done worse," and it was a terrible thing to see Gaara smile.  It was always crooked, always a little malignantly perverse.  He smiled then, said with a slight mocking tone, "You wanted to do it.  You're a demon.  _This_ is what you do—this is what you _are_.  Get over it."

Naruto saw red as he attacked.

***

In the desert, Gaara had the advantage.  The whole living _earth_ was his weapon, his defense, his sword and shield in the same neat moment.  Gaara was fated to win, and they both knew it—perhaps on solid rock or the plains, hell, even near the _ocean_ it would've been a fair fight, but in the Desert Gaara was _The_ demon, and there was nothing Naruto could do about that.

Still, the outcome of the fight surprised even Naruto.  

He remembered the feel of his elbow in Gaara's stomach, shattering through the sand armor and delighting in his pain and Gaara's, in feeling the twin stimulations of fear and hunger tear at his mind as he tore through the earth to reach the blood beating behind it.  Pleasure in hearing his bones crack as he bent one arm back, wide green eyes startled and even _more_ pleasure when he felt the bones break under his hand and through Gaara's skin until the ulna bone cut into Naruto's claws.  Ecstasy when he heard the human boy and demon scream together in sync and out of pitch through agony—live shadow men running down his throat.

Gaara was torn up—his back, his arms, even his face; one eye was closed and bleeding thickly.  It was possible he only had one eye left.  His hands were especially beaten up.  He'd put his arm back together again—it'd still be a while before he'd be able to use it again.  His demon blood and sand was barely holding it together—one good hit, and he'd lose it forever.  Might not even be able to keep it anyway.

Teeth and claws had had a good time at him—once Naruto realized his defense was just a _minuscule_ slower, he had taken full advantage of it without thinking.  His skin was burned again—he had more hair on one side of his head than the other, and his right shoulder was blackened _below_ the skin.

That _really_ had to hurt.

Naruto kept his face twisted in a snarl, feeling his heart pound in his temples as the sand crushed his still-struggling body and kept his hands open and fingers apart, grains burrowing into his flesh and going into his blood to kill him that way if need arose, arms twisted behind and away from him.  He was _angry_.

He didn't doubt Gaara would kill him—they'd kill everyone else around them by that time, everyone who mattered and everyone else who didn't and was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.  They killed—it was all they _could_ do.

Gaara stared at him, one eye bruised and the other closed.  

He'd…well he had _started_ the fight because he was frustrated, because _something_ needed to clear the air and everything had just sort of…spiraled from there.  He hadn't expected Naruto to go for the throat.  Hadn't expected Naruto to take it personally, to _actually_ try to kill him, to _want_ to.  He…he nearly had.

Anywhere else, and he might've.  Naruto could move unbelievably fast in fox-form, and was still tricky to predict.  If not for the sand…not for the acres of his weapon, his defense, his mother's spirit haunting him and slithering to his rescue…

"This is what we are," Naruto rasped back, the good old gallows humor kicking in now.  "This is all we can do—this is all we can _ever_ do.  What are you waiting for?"

Gaara's fingers twitched as he startled, but that was it.  The promise was broken in its entirety then, and only Gaara realized it.

"Finish it."

Gaara…it…

He meant it.  He could hear it in his voice.  Just…he just wanted to…

But _he_—

Huh.  Well.

_Naruto the Bastard. Naruto the Demon King. Now and forever._

_You were_ never _loved!_

The sand slid away, crept away, went crawling for something to hide in or under but there wouldn't be relief for it because the blood wouldn't come off the grains until the next rain, and that wouldn't be for a while.  Not for another month or so, or perhaps a thousand years.

Naruto dropped to his feet with the funny double-ankle effect, hands already ready for an attack in front of him, teeth and claws flashing and blue-green flame hissing as it ate the empty air near him.  His eyes were focused, narrowed sharp, and still ready to continue it.

For a stretched, painfully long second like a skein of silk being stretched and stretched impossibly until the threads started to warp around each other as they struggled not to break, not to separate, not to be alone, Gaara stared at him, one eye bruised and the other bleeding.

"You love him," was all Gaara said.

There were a dozen things he could have said, a hundred things he meant to say, but what it all boiled down to was that.  Just that.  Simply that.  

Before…_that_…Naruto hadn't blinked at killing, hadn't been so goddamned hateful of himself because of what he was and of Gaara because he was just the same.  When Naruto had created and taken the title of Demon King, it had been in a spree of pure mad pleasure, finding the ability to win ridiculously easy, finding the taste of power to be heady and intoxicating.  He had reveled being what he was, and Gaara had to admit some…pride also, watching Naruto enjoy himself.  Had to admit some pride, and some admiration, and…and something else, that he still hadn't told Naruto about.

Gaara had thought…had _hoped_…that they could be together because they were alike.  Because they were the same thing.  But Naruto hated being what he was now.  

Hadn't Yashamura said love could change people?  Make them heal…or make them break.  And that…that explained it all.  That explained everything.

Gaara lowered his eyes.

"I…"

Gaara stared out emptily into space. Not here and not there. Definitely not here. So sad.

"No.  No I _don't_!  I don't love anybody…" and that was still the wrong thing to say but Naruto really didn't give a fuck.  Screw him!  Gaara had hurt him—reflexively, Naruto hurt him back without thinking, without consulting the human part that Sasuke had scorned and forgotten him—left him because Naruto didn't want to be human anymore.  But he couldn't stand to be a demon either.

He watched Gaara wince—because of what he had said.  Because of what he had said covered in someone else's blood, the blood of someone who had never known him.  To a demon or an animal spirit, it wouldn't have mattered, because demons didn't have morals they had to live up to.  They just lived as they were; no problems.  But neither Naruto nor Gaara were really demons—they just had the power.  That was it, but it was very easy to forget that clothes do not make the man.

Naruto snorted, before standing up to his full height, towering a little over Gaara, the sand dead all around them.  Dead and still.  //_I asked him to kill me, didn't I?  …yeah.  I did.  Told him to actually, but...yeah.//_

Naruto watched silently. He could feel Naruto's eyes walking on him, sliding over and into his eyes. Just silently.  The blue-green flames tore and slashed through Naruto's knees without hurting him, agitated.  

"And I wanted you for me.  Just for...."

Finally Naruto spoke, voice cold as stone and flat as the sky "Selfish?"

Gaara winced, but he didn't turn away. If Naruto was angry, then he should be. And somewhere in the childishly innocent area that Gaara still had preserved in him somewhere, he honestly…hoped at least, that Naruto wouldn't hurt him. Not Naruto. 

_//…he loved_ him_.  Not…never…//_

_//I was stupid.//_

_//Foolish…that was all.//_

_//I don't feel better.//_

"…" he tried to answer, but his throat was stuck. And his lips wouldn't move. They _could_ move, they just _wouldn't_. Barely discernible, Gaara nodded.  He wasn't shaking, but he was bleeding badly—in more places than could be seen.  

Naruto knew he should be shifting, knew he had hurt someone that he…that he hadn't wanted to.  Knew he should be feeling some type of guilt, remorse…but like that thing with the village, like that thing with Iruka and his father, like that thing with Sasuke and the betrayal of his own demons, he didn't feel a thing at all.  He found himself analyzing the situation instead.

_//…I didn't have the right to hurt him.//_

_//No, I had the right.//  _

_//I said I wouldn't.//  _

_//No, he said he wouldn't let me.//  _

_//But he did.//_

"You should have…you could have killed…" thankfully but too late, Naruto didn't finish the sentence, but it was painful that he had started it at all.  Gaara still didn't shake, his mind still whirling and heart still aching with what he knew now.  He swallowed, and was tired.  More than anything, he wanted to lie down and never wake up.  _Never_.

Something flickered through Naruto.  Flickered, and he acted before it died.

Fingers brushed lightly against Gaara's cheek, pushed back the rebellious red hair that wouldn't stay behind his ear and watched it slip back out again. Fingers tipped with claws, larger than normal and leaner like paws touched the bleeding eye carefully with the back of them, because the front tips would cut no matter what, and then went away.  Gaara would keep both his eyes.

//_You had me if you wanted sex.  You had_ me _if you wanted_ _kisses, if you wanted someone to pet you and talk with you…someone to insult you, because that's all he ever did to you but you…you…_//

//_…_you.// 

Almost instantly, but still holding back at the last minute, Gaara leaned into the touch, his head still securely tied to his neck and body, his one good eye closing and his chest heaving more than a little painfully.  Gaara's nose and forehead touched the center top of Naruto's chest when he leaned against him—he'd forgotten how much taller he got like this.

He couldn't see Naruto's face, could only feel his fingers running through his hair and down his neck. Naruto couldn't see his face, so he wouldn't know if Gaara was lying or telling the truth.

"For myself. All for myself. It…is selfish, isn't it?"

Was that a statement or a question? Was he asking Naruto if it was selfish to want him that way, if it was bad to want him exclusively? Or was he saying it was?

"Selfishness happens. It's a thing in life. It's nothing to be ashamed of."  Nothing at all like Naruto had to be ashamed of.  If he could even still feel ashamed now.  He didn't feel it now; didn't feel much of anything except maybe vague pity and acceptance that something big had happened, that something had changed.  

He had seen Gaara hurt before, seen him vulnerable and weak, but he'd never seen him helpless.  He tried to find it in himself to hate himself for making the red-head he sometimes thought of as 'cute' hurt that way, but didn't.  Didn't feel any more sympathy than he had for the cheese-board-chest kid, and Naruto wondered absently what the hell was wrong with him.  

"I wanted you the same," he lied to make the nicer boy happier.

Gaara's eyes dimmed.  "You want Sasuke the same.  Not me.  Sasuke."  //_Because you can't have him.  Because he'll kill you…and that's what you want now._//  Green eyes clenched closed tighter in pain, and his jaw _ached_.  His heart had stopped beating; his lungs had dissipated into acid that was eating through his stomach like tapeworms.  

The fox answered truthfully with a shrug, "Sort of."

Gaara was silent for a little while. What kind of answer was that? That wasn't even a real answer!  _//…anger.  I need anger.  …help me.  You son of a bitch…you help me now!  I actually need you now.  Give me the anger I need—the hate.  That's what I need.  That's all I ever needed._// There was a silence in Gaara's head.  The demon didn't answer.

"Sort of?"

Naruto finally smiled a little, but only with his mouth. His eyes told a different story.  Gaara couldn't see it anyway, and with the fox's half-body every smile looked like a snarl or sneer, so it was a good thing.  "Selfishly still. But not so much."

Now Gaara could either take that as a compliment, or he could take it as an insult. It all depended on how he saw it.  Mostly, it didn't make sense.  But he had the feeling he had just been insulted.  

A rough hand lightly settled over Naruto's thigh; not exactly a sexual gesture, but more of a possessive one. Inside him, Gaara was screaming in pain.  Outside, he was quiet and mature, which was another word for _hiding _or_ denying_.  Vaguely, Gaara nodded.  "You love him."

Naruto said nothing. The more he kept saying No, the more Gaara kept saying Yes. He had already answered that question, and Gaara was stupid to keep asking it. Thinking it. Just stupid.

"Don't worry. It's not…" Gaara paused, and then seemed to rally himself. His voice was strained, but he still managed to speak.  The restraint could have been from fatigue.

"Not a problem. Won't do anything. Don't worry," he said quietly, his voice breaking and trembling just slightly, so slightly that you wouldn't notice it unless you were listening for it.  People always did what he wanted because they were terrified of what he would do if they didn't, if he didn't threaten they wouldn't do anything for him.  He didn't want Naruto to be like that.

Naruto rubbed his shoulder, squeezed and massaged it, holding him closer as Gaara squirmed and rubbed his face against his chest, his free hand coming up to grip his side, rising carefully on his toes to place his head on his shoulder without allowing Naruto to see his face. Naruto's double-ankles lowered themselves, so Gaara could rest his head better.  Kisses touched his neck gently, not to excite him but to calm him, soothe him. 

Kisses to help him through.

Arms around him, rocking him gently. Arms around him strong, not letting go, keeping him safe and keeping him from being alone. Strong hands rubbing over his back, completely unafraid of him. Worried, perhaps, perhaps not, for him. But not afraid of him.  His armed _burned_—it would heal to working-order before morning.

"You deserve somebody better than me, Gaara-kun. You really do."

Gaara was grinding his head against his shoulder, good bloody fingers digging into his back. 

_//No. No. No.//_

_//Just you. Just you. Always, just you.//_

_//He doesn't--//_

_//Shut up!  Shut up just…just shut up.  You don't know anything.  You don't know a damn thing.//_

_//…I know how he looks out the window when he thinks you're not looking.  I know.  You know.  Soon.  Soon you'll be all mine again.//_

_//…fuck you.  Never.  Not letting him go.  Never letting him go.  Mine.  He's mine.//_

In his head, Gaara could hear laughter.  Laughter at him.  He closed his eyes, and concentrated on Naruto's smell close to him, and shut the darkness out.

And that was how Gaara broke his promise to Naruto.

***

It was a good thing Kakashi was secretly awake, or else Sasuke would have found himself with a broken arm the minute he tried to touch him, especially his face, especially while Kakashi was—to be very specific—in his _own_ bed and not someone else's on accident.  As it was, Kakashi had taken precautions to sleep with his mask _on _the past few nights ever since he noticed Sasuke had been getting restless again, only this time he isn't haunting the wilds anymore—just Kakashi's bedroom window.

Children were so precocious.

He opened his eyes and glared feebly because it was too much work to put more effort into the act, expecting Sasuke to draw back and leave or maybe try to feed him some lame excuse.  Or maybe simply act weird.  Sasuke decided to act very weird, because he didn't leave his side, nor his fingers the edges of Kakashi's lips through his mask.

"Sasuke."  Kakashi pushed down the urge to force his hand away; he had been around with enough people to recognize what someone was thinking when they touched him like that.  It didn't happen often, but then he didn't let himself be touched often either anyway.  And he was tired—Iruka had made him go _through_ the paperwork.  Right then, Kakashi hated Iruka, paper, and people who woke him up.  Mostly, he hated paper.  Most of it was _still_ there.  Sasuke was too, but Iruka was not, so one out of three was…okay.  Not _great_, but okay.

"You don't know what happened to me."  Sasuke's voice was calm, collected, and cool.  It sounded vaguely rehearsed—Kakashi wondered mildly if he practiced in front of the mirror first before coming.  _//…well.  Strip me naked and spank my ass, he's speaking.  Huh.  Wow.  …why don't I like that color in his eyes?  Probably because it looks like he's been drinking.  Yeah.  That makes sense._//

"You never said," Kakashi pointed out.  The fingers didn't leave his mask—and through the mask, his lips.  They kept tracing and pushing against them lightly, feeling them push back.  Sasuke wasn't stupid; he knew he looked…good.  To his everlasting resentment and advantage, he did look handsome.  He kept his voice purposefully deep, soft, thoughtful while still being charged.

"I saw the way you used to look at Iruka.  You don't look at him that way anymore."

"Stop it," he bit out, not anticipating an attack from that angle.  Not anticipating an attack at all.  He sat up and forced the fingers away, not surprised but not pleased when Sasuke's wrist twisted around so he could grab his own.  His skin was feverishly warm, and his eyes too bright, too avid.  He didn't seem intimidated at all.  "That's enough."

Sasuke shook his head once, "No.  No it's not."  The bright look never left his eyes.  He smelled like sex, and his fingers still stroked at the underside of his wrist, at his pulse seductively.

//_Stay cool, think it through._//  "You're not thinking clearly.  You're drunk."

"I'm thinking clear enough.  I know where I am and I know what I'm doing and I know why.  That's clear enough."  His voice was level, and reasoning sound.  Hell, it'd been Kakashi himself that taught him to think like that.  "And I'm not drunk—I don't drink."

"Only thing worse than a guy who drinks is a guy who doesn't.  What do you want?"

Even through the darkness, he could still see the chilly uncertainty and confusion in a single gray eye.  But no disgust.  No disgust, not yet…and maybe desire?  It was too early to tell.  It was too hard to tell.  It was too hot to tell.  And Kakashi hadn't shoved him away yet, which made the moment as good as any he would get.  

Sasuke moved in.

Kakashi startled back and didn't get away, his breath going out in a burst and _really_ not expecting this.  Sasuke was kissing him.  Sasuke had his hand buried in his hair and one arm wrapped around him and was practically sitting in his lap and kissing him passionately through the mask.  And, Kakashi firmly decided, if this wasn't an 'Irk?' moment, he didn't know what was.  He grunted/squeaked unattractively slightly in surprise.

//_I haven't gotten laid in two years…that girl didn't count.//_

_//I've never been molested by anyone _younger_ than me…this is unusual.  Oh wow.  I will write this day down in my calendar.//_

_//_Why_ is he doing this?  Did I _miss_ something?//_

Sasuke tried to make sure he realized his eyes were shut closed tight before shoving down the mask and running into Kakashi's hand shoving him away hard, his fingers firmly over his eyes but not gouging.  He let go of the mask, eyes dark and wild in his face and Kakashi's own winter gray eye simply regarded him quietly, dispassionately, mask back in place.  He let go of him again, sitting back to see what would happen, not really caring as long as Sasuke didn't try to yank his mask again.

_//…no.  No I haven't missed anything.  I hadn't been expecting him to be this _forward_ though, this…_//

Kakashi hadn't pushed him out yet.  Hadn't said anything and didn't feel offended yet, just surprised and mildly agitated.  He tried again.  He really did.  He tried hard.  Not as hard as he could have though, because…

_//…this needy.  This desperate.  So.  You haven't grown up at all, have you kid?  Not really.  So this is what happened to you.  This is what he got you thinking._//

Kakashi was thinking.  Why he was doing this, why _him_, what made him act now—useful things.  Shinobi things.  Actual thinking and stuff.  Sasuke closed his eyes, chest heaving and head hurting and just wanting one simple easy little thing and curled up on his shoulder.  Kakashi finally wrapped his arms around him, held him.  

He tried kissing his neck through the cloth, rubbing his nose against it and still felt a tingle run through his body but it was more giddy-surprised and repulsed than satisfied.  That didn't stop him from rubbing his hands along his back, rumpling his shirt or rubbing against him.  He wanted something.  He needed something.  This was a different type of hunger, one that he couldn't fix by going out and killing something or that he could just pick some nameless whore to take care of because he needed more than that.  He wanted more than that.  And he couldn't get the little phantom touches out of his dreams.

//_I always hoped…I always knew you two would pull each other apart if you didn't pay attention.  Damn it.  If I didn't paying attention.  Looks like you two managed it after all.  You've made each other's life a living hell after all._//  

After a while he slowed down, stilling, but continued trembling in his lap his cheeks still flushed.  But his hand relaxed on Kakashi's back, clinging to the long-sleeved dark blue shirt he wore to sleep.

//_Good job.  Congratulations.  And here I was wondering if you had it in you or not—silly me.  Of course you did._//

"Sasuke.  What happened?"  Not that he couldn't guess, but more to make the younger talk, make the younger realize what had happened had happened and that was just _it_.  More to make him get it off his chest and on with his life, wherever that happened to be.

He shuddered and clung to him harder, eyes shutting.  Sasuke's voice was raspy, fast, "I wouldn't take up your time."

"You _are_ taking up my time.  What happened?"

The body tightened against him.  "Nothing.  Nothing.  It doesn't matter now."

"I think it does."

Sasuke shook his head and nibbled on the cloth over his neck.  No, it didn't matter.  It didn't.  It didn't matter at all.

"Sasuke, you can either talk, chill out, or get the hell out of my room.  But stop doing that."

"Does it bother you?" he whispered softly, caressing the silvery hair at the nape of Kakashi's neck.  Yeah right, like he'd believe some threat like _that_.  Kakashi had never thrown him out _before_; he wouldn't do it now.  People would start doing like they were supposed to again.  They wouldn't act strange anymore.  He could count on Kakashi for that, surely.

"You're delusional."

Sasuke coughed something that may have been a self-effacing laugh on anyone else, and smirked as he felt Kakashi's shoulder blades through his shirt.

"I'm not who you want me to be," the stroking stopped.  "You've got the wrong guy."  The body went stiff on his lap, and Kakashi kept his hands free and ready for anything.

He expected Sasuke to swear or deny it, maybe even try to hit him.  Something.  Nothing happened though.  His body went cool.  //_Fuck.  How deep is this?_//  And Kakashi held him warmly for the first time, overriding his own instincts, and securely in case Sasuke suddenly decided to bolt and kissed the temple of the boy he had always imagined his son would be, if he ever had one.

Sasuke didn't move.  He was barely breathing.  He didn't trust Kakashi; he knew better than that, but he was kind of hoping that it wouldn't be too much to…ask.  Just for a little while.  Nothing real.  Just a little…away time.  Just for a while.  When he felt arms hold him and hands scratch and rub gruffly at his back, he thought there was still a chance.

"Just a while."

"No."

"It doesn't have to…"

"It wouldn't."

"Then why…?"

"Because that's not what you need."  //_You should know better than that.  I thought you did._//

"I don't…wanna sleep…"

Kakashi didn't respond immediately, but after a while hugged him hard.  "You can stay here."

"You'll…?"

"No.  You can stay here.  No questions.  But not that; it won't help you, and it won't help me either."  
  
"Doesn't have to mean anything."  

Kakashi was free to leave him in the morning—he wasn't asking for emotional compassion, just physical release.  That was all—there was too much inside him that needed out, and Kakashi was the only one he trusted enough to even approach for fresh bandages of left-over food.  This…this wasn't asking much.  He had seen the way Kakashi looked at other males sometimes—not provocative, but simply evaluating.  

Sasuke knew he measured up—already knew that, though Kakashi had never looked at him that way.  Whatever he wanted, whatever kink he had in the closet (probably a thousand), he could do.  Sasuke just…just didn't want to be asleep.  Didn't want to be alone.  And Kakashi was the only one he trusted now.

//_And where did you learn that?_//  "That's not the point.  The answer's no.  But I'd like it if you stayed here," he hugged him again, playfully this time.  "Gets cold at night."

"Just once…" and he can feel a slight…twitch in the elder.  Nearly a…surrender?  Maybe?  Just once, just once and that would be enough to chase that thing out of his dreams, out of his nightmares.  Just once.  Just enough to chase that ghost out of his bed, just once, just enough.

"Sasuke..."

The younger boy slipped back, and again Kakashi kept his hands free and ready.  Sasuke pulled the headband down, over his eyes so he can't see, and reached out for his face and for his mask, tugging it down with still gentle but no-nonsense fingers.  And…he let him.  What the hell; let him get it out of his system.

_He tasted like spiced ramen and faintly like burnt cinnamon and salty sunshine, his lips shaped like candy and agile strong from all that smiling and laughing and swearing he was always doing.  Sasuke had dreamed about how he tasted.  Now he knew.  Now he knew, and it was **better** than he had dreamed._

Kakashi tasted cold.  Cold and hard.  He didn't fight, but that was all the encouragement he got.  He tasted…well he tasted like dinner.  That soupy thing that he didn't want to ask what the meat was or where it came from and didn't believe was a domestic animal at all.  And he felt just like Sasuke did.  Nothing special.  Nothing wholesome he could feed on or off of.

Sasuke leaned back, head down and hands drawn to his sides but not _quite_ wrapped around his body.  "You don't _know_ what he did to me…"

Kakashi didn't say a word.  _//So it was Naruto.  Damn; I wish I wasn't right._//  Silently, he pulled his mask back up.

"I could have fought."  //_You didn't?  Why the hell wouldn't…_//

"I killed it.  It won't go away.  It doesn't matter what I do.  It won't go away.  It's worse than before."

//_Worse than before?  Worse than…Worse than Itachi?  Is that…no.  No, I don't know what he did to you.  I have no idea.  This goes beyond rape—that's what I figured.//  _

_//…How the hell am I going to get Hinata to get a good look at you?  Damn.  That's gonna be a trick_.//

//_But you did kill it…  Finally learning that doesn't cure everything?  Death doesn't solve everything…I had hoped you'd learn that earlier, but now is good enough.  Good enough to work with_.//

Sasuke didn't seem eager to say anything else, and after a while, Kakashi pulled him closer, held him loosely in his arms with his headband still hiding his eyes.

_//…you killed it.  _You_ killed him.  …God, what did that cost you?  More than you had?  Have you even paid yet?  Yet for him…for him to be dead and you to be without a mark…you're not that amazing, not that inhuman Sasuke.  You have limits still, I've seen them.  So for you to have killed him…_//

_//…he _let_ you.  He let you do it.  He let you…and you know it, don't you?  You know it.  You're not that strong.  He let you.//_

_//What the fuck were you two_ thinking_?/_/

"He wouldn't stop…" there was heavy breathing on against his shirt, but Sasuke's body was still cool, still sluggish and tired.  Very tired.  No wonder he'd been falling up on missions; he hadn't slept for a very long time.  And he hadn't slept much during the rest period—not real sleep.  Kakashi had been watching for that.

"You're staying here tonight."

"He wouldn't stop…" Kakashi stayed silent, but tilted his head down enough to indicate that Sasuke had his full attention if he wanted it.  _If_ he wanted it.  He was too good at closing up, far too good.  "I don't know if…I don't know what I would've done.  It wasn't fair.  It wasn't fair.  It—"

He swallowed hard.

"It should've been _me_."

"What…what I don't get is…" he trailed off.  His voice wasn't breaking, didn't carry much emotion, but there was a lining to it that it usually didn't carry.  _//…what it cost you was too much.//_

Kakashi blinked thoughtfully, somber.  "He made his choices freely, and he made them to be permanent.  For whatever reason…maybe it was revenge.  It isn't pretty."   The body in his arms and lap didn't twitch, but he was still hoping the message got through to him—now Sasuke had a strong physical example of what revenge brought for him to contend with, maybe not enough to throw him off course but maybe, hopefully, strong enough to make him _think_ about it.

Sasuke always thought he'd be the one to fall from grace; after all, he was the one without dreams, without hope, the one who couldn't get close for fear and need.  He wasn't like his teammates, with something nobler and bigger than themselves to chase after, something great to be one day. Sasuke only needed to be his brother's killer—that was all.  He never intended to continue the Sharingan line after he was dead, never planned to marry, never planned to have kids.  He didn't plan to do anything besides be his brother's murderer.  After that, he didn't plan to be anything at all.  He wasn't like the others—never like the others.

If anything bad had to happen, it'd happen to _him_.  The others…Sakura and Naruto…they'd be well out of it.  It'd just be him.  

He'd been so sure when he left with the Sound, that it'd be the first and last time he would wear the Leaf insignia.  He'd been so _sure_.

He didn't want to talk about it.

"I should go."

"No.  You shouldn't."

"I hurt those around me.  I'm tired."

"It's not you…you're tired.  You need to sleep, you'll feel better in the morning."

"Promise?"

Kakashi wondered if Sasuke could hear the hesitation in his voice, and hoped he couldn't.  "Sure."

"Liar.  You always lie to me."  _//About everything.  About nothing.  I don't care anymore.  Hurts.//_

"Not always," Kakashi answered with a slight smile in his voice that he didn't feel, because Sasuke spoke the truth and that really hurt, especially when you were so used to dealing with illusions and lies of what was really there.  Comforting in a way.

"You're staying here tonight."

"You can't make me."

"Can't I?" Kakashi asked quietly.

Sasuke was silent in a disturbing way, still in his arms.  He hadn't taken the headband off his eyes, blinding—the headband with the Leaf insignia on it, saying he belonged to a place that didn't exist, a place that he wasn't sure if he had _ever_ belonged to even when it was there.  

Cool slender fingers found his mask once more, and tugged it down, running over his lips and along his chin, gently holding his face in place.  There was a limit to how far Kakashi would allow things to go—for God's sake, he still thought of Sasuke as his _son_.  His brat.  His stupid little kid who ran in first and thought second that he had taught the Chidori to that Gai used to yell at him for, because he was either a Copy-cat or a creator of his own attacks, but he couldn't be _both_ at once!  It wasn't _fair_!  

The only one Kakashi had taken a special interest in his training, because he was so much like himself at that age—stupid and reckless.  Because a debt was owed, and those had to be paid, one way or the other.

But…but who was he to tell a guy to go find comfort somewhere else?  He hadn't denied Obito when he used to ask him—and Sasuke was so much like him in some twisted dark pretty way that it was just stupid to deny him too.

So when cool, slightly feverish lips touched his again, nervously, dark hair trembling a little and eyes still covered, Kakashi kissed him back no harder than he would've kissed some girl he just met and had no idea who the other was.  Sasuke was firm—he'd known that already—and cool.  But willing, and deeply terrified at the same time.  Whatever the hell had happened to him had happened hard.  Broken in bits, and barely holding himself together with spit, the boy shivering in his arms and kissing someone he knew because he wouldn't kiss someone he didn't.  He really didn't want to be kissing anyone at all, but he didn't want the phantom kisses he was getting either.

For a few minutes that was all it was—cold, simple kisses traded because there was no one else to trade with.  Kakashi's arm around his waist and hand petting his back like a cat, nibbling his lower lip until Sasuke's muscles relaxed.  When Sasuke started…going a little harder, trying stuff with his tongue, fingers poking under his shirt and touching age-old scars, all Kakashi had to do was say his name, and he stopped.  Not because Sasuke was afraid of what he would do, but because Kakashi really wasn't the one he wanted, and he wasn't about to let him forget that.  Simple.

His back fit against his chest nicely, since Sasuke had grown straight up but still had lots of time and space to fill out in and Kakashi was still bigger than him, and taller.  Kakashi kept one arm wrapped around him, and had to share the same small pillow in the same not-really-big bed, and woke up the next morning in an empty bed and a crick in his neck that made it impossible to turn his head even a little to the left.

The punk hadn't even made him breakfast before he left.  Kakashi sighed.  _//Little punk…God I hate kids…_//  Then he pulled the badly made Thai take-out of the fridge and popped it in the microwave, and eventually had something decent to eat.

Two nights later Sasuke returned to him without words, slipped into the bed, but that time, _that time_…Kakashi made sure he made breakfast before he left.  There were scrambled eggs with bits of shell in them to eat—as a whole Kakashi guessed it could've been worse.

***

Naruto carried him.

Where and to what he didn't care because it really didn't matter, but he had carried him somewhere with a bed, shower, and empty refrigerator.  That said a lot.  Wherever they went, the refrigerator was always empty, because they never settled down, never called one place home or safe more than a few nights at best, and that was what they needed most of all.  A physical anchor, because they were too unstable to provide an anchor for each other.  

Naruto had left him on the bed bleeding while he went to take a shower, and Gaara had already checked the fridge and small kitchenette for something decent or even indecent to eat and found nothing.  His arm ached and worked, and he washed his face in the kitchen.  He could open both eyes now, and it pained him to do so.

Gaara's time with Naruto wore well on him—but it all depended on Naruto.  Once that was taken away, it was over.

Eventually the water stopped running and Gaara waited with the reusable sheets against his cheek, curled on his side facing the bathroom door.  When Naruto came out he didn't look up, just watched the wet thighs and human knees coming towards him, until they vanished as Naruto sat down near his legs, not touching.

When it came down to it, what did Gaara have to offer him that he didn't already have?  Understanding, yes, but no solution.  Affection, but couldn't show it right.

What could Naruto offer him?  What could Naruto give _him_, if he chose?  
_//Everything.//_

_//But he won't.//_

_//…you don't know that.//_

Gaara reached up without looking and touched his lips; felt Naruto's fingers close over his hand gently.  When he glanced up, he noticed that Naruto had already cut his hair—probably with a razor in the bathroom, so it hung at odd angles and lengths around his face.  The whisker marks looked like they had been outlined in mascara, but they weren't much bigger than normal.  At least his eyes had turned back to pale blue again—that was…that was…

Gaara pulled him down.  

His clothes were still hanging off him and bloody, and around his neck was still the leather thong that five shards of handmade rough glass were tied to.  He didn't think Naruto still had his glass orb necklace—hadn't seen it on his neck for about a month or two now.  Had just stopped wearing it altogether.  Maybe he'd lost it—it was the sort of thing Naruto would do.

His jaw tasted like water, and his skin and hair were freezing because he hadn't used hot water to bathe in.  Gaara made a point of not kissing his mouth, of not touching it with anything more than fingers.  His skin was smooth, unbroken.  One couldn't even tell that Naruto had been in a fight at all.

Still, he turned Naruto onto his back, fingers tangled in wet cold hair, and put his fingers over his lips when he started to speak.  Whatever Naruto would've said, wouldn't have been "I'm sorry."  Naruto had made a point to never apologize for anything in his life, not for anything and not to anyone.  It was a rant Gaara had heard a couple times before, as if Naruto was trying to convince himself by convincing Gaara first who at the time hadn't cared.  Even now, that wasn't what he cared about.  It wasn't the apology he wanted—he just wanted him to stay.  All he had ever wanted.  Ever.

So he kept his fingers against lips that were soft now, slightly rosy in a masculine way against skin that was still sunburnt-brown, and eyes that were still pale blue and that he loved to look into.  But…there had always been something in them.  In his eyes.  Some emotion, some life.  There wasn't anything in them now, so Gaara kissed them both, first the right then the left, and sat up to take off the rest of his broken clothes.

Naruto just stared up at him quietly, not understanding a damn thing but not wanting to make another _stupid_ mistake and not wanting to encourage him but not wanting to hurt him either.  So he did nothing.

Did nothing while Gaara nibbled down his neck, to his collarbone, taking the full initiative with full permission to do whatever wherever he wanted.  When he got to his nipples, kissed them first before licking them, finally suckling hard before biting once Naruto pushed his head into the bed, eyes closed and his hands found Gaara's hair, but he didn't pull.  Didn't push either, just let him do what he wanted, stroking his fingers through red hair stiff with blood in some places.

The sound of Naruto's breath hitching, feeling his fingers running over his scalp pleasantly and knowing that his head was pushed back with the calm look of pleasure on his face was more than enough to keep Gaara going, more than enough to persuade him that this was _good_.

_//He still wants me.//_

_//He'd do it for any woman.//_

_//I'm not a woman.//_

_//Not far from it.  He wouldn't care anyway.//_

Gaara bit down on his stomach, and Naruto yelped and his eyes sprang open.  But he didn't stop him, didn't hurry him either.  His fingers rubbed over Gaara's neck, feeling his bones and squeezing the tension gradually out of them, not wanting to hurt him anymore than he already had, while at the same time not caring what happened to him.  Not caring a thing about him, or about himself, really.

Fingers that were luke-warm and slightly wet poked into him, and for a minute Naruto almost got up and threw Gaara out the window.  He'd been crappy at it before, and Naruto wasn't the quivering heap of misery he'd been anymore—Gaara didn't have any _right_ to try that type of shit with him.  

But he didn't get up, didn't try and do anything.  Just let him.  What the hell.

Gaara felt—oddly uncomfortable, watching Naruto watch him, pale blue eyes taking in every movement but giving out nothing of himself.  And that fact, the idea of Naruto actually being _reserved_ was more than enough to weird even Gaara out.  If anything, he was almost evaluating him, judging him.  That thought was worse.

Still, he went through with it, entering him roughly, breathing hard and looking down at pale blue eyes that were fogged over slightly but still watched him closely, the angle of his mouth, the line of determination in his brow…everything.  It was tighter than he remembered, and cooler too, and Gaara's stomach flipped with some pleasure and confusion at the same time as he continued slowly thrusting into Naruto's ass hard.

Naruto, for his part, was wondering if this was what it had felt like for Sasuke.

At one point, Gaara had to close his eyes, had to picture the winning smile and trickster grin and cheerful blue eyes that he had fought and bled for, the voice that made him feel at home even after he had wrecked his home to the ground.  Had to picture that, picture that person, that sensation of light-hearted simple joy and completion, felt his movements speed up and hands grip hips, feeling hot and hopeful and tight and finally came, biting his lip.

The body under him warmed up, the breathing sped up, as did the slight moans.  Truly, Gaara was a bit rough, holding his hips a bit too hard and not always hitting his prostrate right, so while the sensation and pressure was there, there was no pleasure.  But it was pleasant still for Naruto, to have someone suck at his neck and stroke him between his legs, even if Gaara wasn't good at screwing him.  Good at being screwed, but not the other way around.

The motions sped up, so that the bed moved a little, to the point where Naruto was finally participating, moving Gaara where he wanted him to hit the good-spot, hissing slightly and arching into Gaara's nails raking down his chest and mouth that bit his fingers idly.  Gaara had never been gentle, but Naruto didn't feel like gentle right then, so eventually they both came, with a sigh and a gasp of slight surprise.

Gaara rested his forehead against his shoulder, resisting the urge to bite his neck.  He liked doing that; liked the idea that he could claim and visibly mark Naruto as his for no one else to touch with a simple movement, but it wasn't that simple anymore.  Naruto had _never_ liked it when he did that…and it took him this long to realize it.  This fucking _long_ to realize it.  To accept it.  To figure it out.  Not the fact that Naruto didn't like a little pain or roughness, because he did.  What he didn't like was Gaara trying to take possession of him.

And it took him this fucking long to realize _why_.

"I love you," Gaara said flatly after sitting up, staring straight into Naruto's eyes with his fingers against his lips again. 

His green eyes were flat, and stuck somewhere between indifference and honesty. Gaara's fingers were feather light against his lips, no real obstacle at all. Partly, it was to keep Naruto from answering until Gaara was finished.  Partly, it was to keep from knowing that Naruto had nothing to answer with.  Naruto didn't answer.

"I don't expect you to answer now," Gaara said flatly. "It didn't end with Sasuke, and it didn't start with sex. If you reject it, it will continue."

Hard aquamarine squared cut rocks, rich red hair and porcelain skin, with a hint of grease and sweat. And blood—there was always blood.  Either in his skin or outside on it—there'd always be blood where he was.  Tribal black eye make-up. It sounded like he was threatening Naruto, challenging him, but he really wasn't expecting anything, was fully prepared to take anything. 

What kind of mind could greet pain and pleasure at once? What kind of person could walk through a door not knowing if Heaven or Hell was on the other side? Black and white. Red and green like a jungle's banner.

Fingers slipped from his lips with a butterfly's touch, dark circles becoming complete as Gaara closed his eyes and leaned down and kissed him, kissed Naruto just like he always wanted to, the way he never really had dared to.  The first time he had kissed him since Naruto broke his arm, nearly took out his eye, since it all made sense.

He felt their lips brush as he pressed down, let his lips part open to cover Naruto's mouth. He tasted heat and sunshine, salt and spice and the bland flavoring of ramen. The kiss was passionate and gentle, carnal and warm, a slow exploration of Naruto's open mouth while sentiment simmered through the nerves.

Gaara broke it slowly, softly, still savoring the flavor and feeling, before opening his eyes. Naruto's eyes were already open, baby-blue confused, still silent. He'd done _nothing_ to deserve that type of statement, that type of shock…hadn't he?

Gaara slid off him and out of bed, stoically walking around to the bathroom, letting himself in and closing it soundlessly. A few seconds later Naruto heard the lock click.

It was a gesture, simple, powerful--If Naruto wanted in, a simple lock wouldn't keep him out. But for that, Naruto had to _want_ to _be_ in. Naruto let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, and raised sweaty fingers to lightly touch his lips. In the silence, his mind was yelling.  He looked at the bathroom door, and didn't get up from the bed or even sit up straight.  When he did get up, an hour later, it was to search through the empty fridge.

On the other side of the door, Gaara leaned back against the door carefully, one hand pressed against the door as if to keep it closed, one arm wrapped around his chest protectively. Irrationally, he wanted to cover the front of his throat. His stomach was turned up into painful wire-thin mesh of empty knots, his skin chilled, with a pounding at his temples and a twitch in his neck. And it was hurting again.

His heart.

It was hurting again.

Both arms were wrapped around him protectively, hands inching up to cover his neck, and he stepped away from the door. He didn't dare lean against it, because his weight would make the hinges creak just slightly so; enough to tattle his weakness. He didn't want that.

With an effort of will, Gaara urged one hand down to open the faucet, turn on the shower. He was careful to check the temperature before stepping in, sitting on the cold plastic floor. His arms were still wrapped around him protectively, and unheeded tears fell over his cheeks with the warm shower water. He didn't feel them, didn't care. Didn't even realize he _was_ crying; he would've been surprised if he had known.  His face reflected nothing; was smoothly blank.  Even his eyes were flat, empty.  His mind was silent. Shukaku was silent. His heart hurt.

He felt empty.

***

"We've been over this Sasuke.  The answer's no."

"Then give me something to do!  This—I need something to do."

"There's nothing to do right now—relax."

"I'm sick of this crap old man.  I don't owe you a _thing_."

There was a silence, not because there wasn't anything more to be said, but because those words needed to echo in the speaker's ears.  Sasuke's ears didn't flush, but he did blink.  It was enough to tell Kakashi he had won.

"Really?"

"…You're being an ass hole and you know it."

"This is my room, Sasuke.  I am, pretty much, team captain.  I'm not risking you on anymore solo missions."

"You can't keep me here."

"No.  No I can't.  You thinking of leaving?"

"Maybe."

"Oh.  Where you planning on going?"

"That's none of your concern."

"Well, not explicitly.  But if we ever need to contact you for whatever reason, I'd like to know where you are."

"…I don't know." 

"Hm…the Grass country does need some aid.  If you feel like a breath of fresh air, I'd recommend going there."

There was another silence filled with a good deal of anger.  Betrayal.  His bluff had been called—Kakashi had known _exactly_ what he was doing.  The slam of the trap door closing behind him hurt Sasuke's ears and made his knuckles whiten.

"You'd let me go."

"I can't hold you against your will—I won't do that.  But as you are, Sasuke…as you are, you _are_ the best in the field.  You know that.  But I'm worried that if I let go on a mission, you're not going to come back."

"I'm more qualified than anyone else _here_."

"Yes, and you also haven't eaten in two days or done your laundry in over a month now.  I don't even want to guess when the last time you showered was—your hair looks terrible.  Not even _Herbal Essence_ will fix it up now.  Hinata had to _break_ into your room because she was worried about you and did your laundry _for_ you, and since then you haven't thanked her or touched it.  Sasuke."

Silence.

"…You can help me.  You won't."

"You're being stupid.  That's not going to help and you know it.  You're just being a stubborn brat."

"…What do you want from me?"

"I want you start caring about yourself.  To start being responsible for yourself, more than just training, more than just improving your ninjutsu and martial arts.  Once you've proven that to me, the missions start again."

"Then…then I'm…I am going.  …Grass, you said?"

"Yep."

"…I need some time alone.  I think I'll be back."

"Your room will be waiting for you."

"…yeah."

***

The next morning, Naruto was not surprised to find Gaara gone.  By the time they met next, Kakashi had already done the damage.

***

A/N: Insert super big "Hee!"  here.  I am a happy noodle.  Have finished chapter that's been stewing _forever_.  This chappie struck me as a little angsty, so if you're looking for a happy-Gaara fix, there's a drabble-smut featuring him and Kakashi on my livejournal.  The link to _that_ is on my profile, under my homepage, a quicklink to the drabble will be on the profile itself.

Er…I don't the think the above stuff counts as a lemon.  If it disturbs you, please let me know _first_ before alerting ff.net.  I don't think it counts as a lemon, but if it disturbs you let me know first and I can fix it personally, no problem, no questions.

--Later!


	14. II: My Life

In lieu of the sudden changes ff.net is going through, such as the new QuickEdit which does not allow for non-standard punctuation, such as the ones that have always identified the thoughts of the characters, I've had to post the chapter for _Attraction_ at my LiveJournal—the link to the chapter is on my profile properly marked, unfortunately, as ff.net will not allow me to have hyperlinks on documents either. The chapter wouldn't make _sense_ here, and as soon as the QuickEdit problems are fixed, I plan to post it here.

I apologize for any inconvenience this causes, and hope that it will not deter you from reading.

--Later!


	15. II: Instinct

A/N: We're all familiar with the fascists currently running ff.net, aren't we?  Good—then we should _all_ know that lemons aren't allowed here anymore—since this chapter _was_, more or less, a total lemon though not entirely, it's featured once more on my LJ, the link _to _it on my ff.net profile which can be reached by clicking the link **gelfling** at the top of this page.  From there you click the link that'll direct you to **Attraction 15: Instinct**, and it'll take you to the full version of this chapter.  This _here_ is, more or less, only a teaser.  If there's any problems with links or just finding stuff, please send me an email or let me know somehow.  Sorry for any inconvenience, but I hope you enjoy it all the same.

Standard Disclaimer Applies at All Times  
  
Attraction   
By gelfling  
gelfling8604yahoo.com  
  
_Thoughts_  
_::Invading thoughts:: _  
  
I lit the match  
I lit the match  
I saw another monster turn to ash  
Felt the burden lifted from my back  
Do you recognize the nervous twitch  
That exposes the weakness of the myth  
When your turn comes 'round  
And the light goes on  
And you feel your attraction again  
Your instinct can't be wrong  
--_Instinct_, Neil Finn  
  
Even more exasperating than the guy who thinks he knows it all, is the one who really does.  
–Unknown  
  
And in the night, you are my dream  
You're _everything_ to me  
…  
I can't forget the taste of your mouth  
From your lips all the heavens pour out  
I can't forget when we are one  
you know  
I am  
_free_  
--_Love of My Life_, Santana feat. Dave Matthews  
  
Sasuke secretly hated bathrooms. Bad memories surfaced too easily in them.  
  
He stared down at Naruto's body—tanned, skinny, and short. It wasn't bleeding, but small, nearly invisible scars crossed here and there. There was the smell of water, but it didn't wash anything off Naruto that he couldn't rub off himself. Water washed everything, but that didn't mean it made everything clean.  
  
Sasuke sat down on the tub's rim, waiting.  
  
At one point, pale blue eyes after the summer rains stared at him muzzily. Sasuke was disgusted to find that they were still beautiful. He was getting sick of them.  
  
"I never needed you."

"I never asked you to.""I never asked for your help.""I didn't offer it—I did what I wanted.""How did you survive?"  
  
"My skin grew back—my blood healed my body. I kept living." _Gaara kept me company. The same guy that killed Sakura, that I always thought was gonna try and kill me, kept _**me**_ company._  
  
"What do you want from me now?""What makes you think I want anything?""You saved my life—not exactly your style. I thought you wanted me dead."  
  
"Did I say that? Funny…I don't remember saying that. It was probably you that said that, or somebody else. ….I don't remember wanting you dead." _What I want is you under my control. What I want is you at my feet, you at my side…there with me when I'm human and there when I lose it, there when I'm not human at all._  
  
"Don't fuck with me now."  
  
Naruto blinked slowly, feeling stone fingers dig into his skin, under his chin.  
  
"Don't tell me what to do Sasuke. Don't you _dare_ tell me what to do."  
  
Sasuke didn't answer—but his chakra twisted and undulated in the water, knuckle moving into Naruto's windpipe. And, yes, Naruto couldn't breathe—couldn't move his body underwater, couldn't take the finger out of his throat, and felt himself being slowly strangled.  
  
"Why did you rape me?"_::I wanted you.:: _"You had no right."_::Think so? I had the power to do it—isn't that what it's all about?:: _  
  
Elongated inky prayers black as sin narrowed at him, displeased.Naruto grinned.  
  
::You weren't helpless. You didn't fight. You enjoyed_ it. You let me—doesn't sound like rape to me.:: _  
  
Sasuke let go of his throat.  
  
"I said no."  
  
Naruto coughed slightly, and had to swallow twice before he could get anything out.  
  
"You always say one thing and do another…one of those ninja things.""Do you want me still?"  
  
Now it pale blue stonewashed jeans that narrowed.  
  
"Don't fuck around Sasuke. Don't play.""Why not? What do you care?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"I _thought_ you were in love with me."  
  
With that thoughtful, concluding _certain _statement, Sasuke stood up and turned his back, walking towards the bathroom door.  
  
"I want you dead," Naruto hissed weakly after him.  
  
Sasuke stopped in the doorway.  
  
"You want both at the same time. I just want you dead."  
  
And then Sasuke left, shutting the door and light off after him.  
  
Naruto glared at the door, before allowing himself to wrinkle further in the water. His skin burned and itched. His left wrist began to bleed.  
  
A/N: The rest of it's on my LJ—enjoy!

Email me if there's any problems at gelfling8604yahoo.com


	16. II: We'll Make Great Pets

**We'll Make Great Pets**

Attraction

By 

****_Thoughts_

_::Invading thoughts_::

Demon Thoughts

If he whistled, I'd come running…Sooner or later, we're _all_ someone's dog.

--Sergeant Angua the Werewolf, _Jingo,_ Terry Prattchet

"SIT!!!"

-Kagome, _Inuyasha_

Why am I fighting to live, if I'm just living to fight?

Why am I trying to see when there is nothing in sight?

Why am I trying to give when no one gives me a try?

Why am I dying to live if I'm just living to die?__

_--Runnin', _2 Pac__

Naruto opened his eyes, which glinted in the pre-dawn shadowed light. He blinked sleepily and inhaled, before he smiled, almost nostalgically, with the aftershocks and feelings his body was still thrumming with, and at the sight of his hand splayed on Sasuke's hand curled on top of his abdomen. The sight of their skin pressed together, their hands next to one another…

A small blush tinted his cheeks on thoughts of last night. His throat closed up on itself, even though the taste of Sasuke's mouth and sweat was still slowly waltzing on the back of his tongue. He'd keep that with him. He was…surprised though…to find Sasuke's hand there. Long, masculine, and incredibly elegant. Still with him. Still there.

Still.

Why?

Naruto didn't answer—far too likely he wouldn't like the response. He wouldn't. No. No point in spoiling a perfectly good morning-after with Sasuke's hand on his stomach and his knee touching his leg.

His eyes voyaged across the flat planes of Sasuke's hand, down the rangy smooth limbs in his arm—he felt incredibly good that morning—over his neck and to his face. Elongated black eyes took him in slowly, swallowing him whole without mercy and Naruto didn't fight.

_I've caught you._

Naruto wasn't sure if he was meant to hear that or not, but since the very human--and therefore weak--emotion of smugness was attached to it, he was guessing on the latter. Still, he managed to slip on his duster and shoes without cracking. He waited until he was some good miles away to do that.

He cracked up laughing, laughing hard, laughing and laughing and laughing until the tears came. For all the stupidity of it all, the gross irony. For the shallow weakness and petty desire. For the cheap envy and jealousy. For the anger and revenge that piled up like a mortgage with an absurd interest. For the beauty.

It was, of course, all Sasuke's fault.

It was _always_ all Sasuke's fault! Sasuke just suddenly realizing the power he had over Naruto, not through strength or skill but through a simple touch. What others couldn't do with an iron sword or army, Sasuke could do with a heated look and a kiss. Even now, the prick _still_ didn't appreciate his talents because they weren't _dignified_, they weren't _textbook_ _techniques_, but he was sensible enough to take advantage of them.

Who else needed to take three showers within ten hours?

Hypocrite. Typical Sasuke.

It had to be just his body that Naruto was attracted to, because he was pretty sure he hated Sasuke Uchiha's personality down to the bones. He made him jealous, made him feel at home, made him feel abandoned. Even as kids Naruto had been torn between wanting to kill him in battle and taking the title of Hokage, or becoming one of his groupies and killing him _then_ and taking the spotlight. At one point though, he always got rid of him—Sasuke was far too dangerous to have around. Sasuke could do things no one else could. He wasn't even aware of it.

Sasuke _always_, always, always, _always_, made him want to hurt and protect him at the same time, to want and not want his help, his acknowledgement. He didn't need his acknowledgement—it wasn't like they were _family_ or anything, he was just _Sasuke_.

And that, truly, was the problem.

He was just so damn stuck-UP!

Sasuke was a puzzle, one that shouldn't have been so hard to understand, but it was.

Naruto wheezed as he started to get his breath back. His stomach ached.

And now, every time Sasuke called him…Naruto would come running.

He'd sworn on his name.

He'd come _running_.

Running for his taste and his skin, his tongue thrust down his throat, their sweat and spit mixing together, his voice, his dark sexy silky careless voice washing him over and speaking his name, calling him names.

But then again…then again probably not even for _sex_, because Sasuke was that carelessly cruel and insensitive. Just for the…What had he called it later? Ah, yeah, "the _promise_ of sex." Naruto would come running when he called. There was no doubt in his mind of that. He would come. He would always come. Probably just to do his dirty work or be a cheap diversion, but he would come.

He'd keep him waiting of course, come when he _felt_ like it, but he would come.

Sasuke wasn't blind, but he made a point of not seeing affection, because that made it so much harder to resist temptation and just _give in_. All these years, and he'd probably never had a clue that when Naruto hit him, punched his lights out and flashed him out with chakra and gouged him through with a knife…it was for more than to just hurt him. It was for a lot more.

Naruto unsteadily got back on his feet, his stomach still aching and his face wet. Then he broke out laughing again and held his face and stomach.

There was name for animals that lived with people, Naruto knew. They were called _pets_.

Bark, bark. Woof, woof.

In theory, it didn't matter. In theory, nothing mattered.

Gaara's lifestyle had always been erratic—unpredictable. He wasn't sure how to make it otherwise, and in any case it kept him safer. He was alone, and it didn't bother him that much. No. Not really. He had been alone all his life—why should it bother him now?

_what am I supposed to feel?_

What did, really, bother him, was the waste. The waste of his time, effort…whatever. Whatever. Everything. Waste waste waste. It…it didn't make sense. It wasn't that he had broken the deal…he wasn't even sure the deal _had_ been broken. Maybe it hadn't. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe it had never been made. Maybe it had never existed only he had wanted it so badly he believed it did, lied to himself. Betrayed himself. Hurt himself. Because he had wanted something that badly.

Pathetic.

He knew how to hurt himself—knew how he could hurt and how he couldn't. He knew. He could hurt himself and who was there to stop him? Who was there to care? Who was there to prove anything to? Who was there to justify anything? Who mattered at all?

_what am I supposed to do?_

He…he wanted to say he did. He wanted to say he _mattered_. But why had he hurt himself like he did, if he _had_ mattered? Why had he done that? Why? Did he matter? Did he _really_? Would the world miss him if he disappeared? If he wasn't there? Would it notice? Would it matter?

He knew his family wouldn't—they didn't even know where he was. He didn't have friends. Never had comrades. Never had allies. That had been part of the deal—they would work towards the same _goal_, but they would not be _equals_. He hadn't wanted comrades. He had refused them. Hurt them. Hurt himself. It was so much easier just to _kill_. Simpler. He didn't have anyone, just his family by blood and they didn't know where he was and they could never be on par with him. They couldn't make him do anything. Couldn't stop him from doing something. Anything. Nothing. Possibilities. Ends. Means. Everything.

So they didn't matter much to him: he couldn't matter much to them. He didn't matter to anyone, and no one mattered to him.

So did he matter?

Did he matter at _all_?

Why was he even _alive_?

Why? Really? Really alive? He didn't care about vengeance anymore and didn't know _who_ he was proving his existence to anymore and there were so few who knew _what_ he was much less _who_ he was and if everyone died by his hand here and now would they even realize it to justify and prove his existence? Or would they simply die? Would there be a point? Had there _ever_ been a point? Would it matter? Would he matter? Did _anything_ matter? _Had_ anything _ever_ mattered?

They were cold, simple facts. Facts. Numb. Cold. Still.

_Dead_.

_what happens next?_

Gaara didn't blink.

But the point…the point was that there had been a waste of time. That somehow, somewhere, he had been cheated. He could feel it. He just couldn't see it.

His mind was looser now—more fractured than when Naruto had left it. Spoiled it. Both. Yes. He had been…better…but he wasn't now, and his mind was cracking on the edges. He could feel the difference in thoughts, in souls, like the difference between whole wheat bread and white bread. One was rough, one was soft. One stagnant, the other vivacious.

Dead, alive.

Black, red.

Shift.

Shift.

_what happened?_

Gaara stared out at the sunrise eyes blank and unfocused like a doll. He didn't look away when the sunlight hit his eyes and made the rims contract. Finally, his eyes closed, and he smelled the cold dryness in the air that made his skin cling tighter to his muscles. The faint threat of rain.

_where am I now?_

Shift.

_what am I now?_

_what happens next?_

When the rain did hit, sparse light wet things, he was still sitting cross-legged on the ground, staring east. His eyes were still closed. His hair plastered to his skull, still the color of blood.

_do I even care?_

The first time Sasuke called, Naruto had been scrounging through the candy aisle of a mini-mart, three miles north. He felt a tinny sound between his ears, not really inside his skull, but ringing against his spine like a telephone wire. He had new leather boots—the serviceable kind that weren't flashy.

He left store without paying for the potato and cheesy chips that made up dinner, with a fudge icicle for dessert.

The first time Sasuke called, he wasn't sure Naruto would come, or even if he heard him. He wasn't sure how this system _worked_ exactly—he had his name, but he hadn't asked for instructions or explanations. Damned if he would ask Naruto for anything he didn't need to. There were some things pride wouldn't allow. Sasuke still had his pride.

The first time Naruto had showed up leaning against the rented bedroom wall in another tavern in Lower Grass that reeked of cold with an undertone of bodies and beer, casual in black jogging pants and a band shirt, Sasuke had started the fight. It was a restrained, verbal fight, a show of control, power, and knowledge without ever actually _acknowledging_ the fight. Tension without the explosion. A cold war, with Naruto's smile flashing on and off in the darkness white and sharp—or at least showing off his teeth. His voice wasn't soft or friendly, but sharp and swift. Sasuke stayed cold, blunt, and deliberately slow. He wasn't in a race—that small show of arrogance incensed Naruto. What made it worse was that Sasuke could get _away_ with it. That he could get away with it and _knew_ he could get away with it and knew _Naruto_ knew he was getting away with it.

Naruto wondered, depressingly, if he was _really_ getting away with it or he had a right to it. As always, he tried to focus that anger on Sasuke.

Sasuke's questions related to werewolves—he was curious about them. Heard there might be some in the area. Wanted to know what Naruto knew. He partly needed the information, and partly just wanted to antagonize Naruto. Naruto came close to tearing his head off—he was a demon, he was _not_ a damn wolf! They weren't the same thing…demons were not the same things. Monsters were not the same thing. They did not all look alike; they did not all act alike.

He was _himself_—he was Naruto the Fox. He'd dragged Hell out and over to prove that point, and Sasuke ran that point over now with academic disinterest.

Sasuke kissed him, and it was like kissing glass. Then he shut Naruto out of his life again; didn't even bother to throw him out or tell him to go. He simply finished him.

The second time Sasuke called him, the process repeated itself almost exactly, except that Sasuke's coldness erased somewhat as his arrogance grew. That time, he had Naruto do more than simply kiss him.

__

_If you had not, it would not have happened. _

_Because it did happen you have done. _

_The stone is written. It is not air. _

"This isn't what I wanted."

_Whom do you blame? _

"Everyone."

_What will you do? _

"…I don't know. I want…I want to hurt something. Like I do. But I won't be able to make it hurt enough. I hurt too much."

_Attempt. _

"It won't make a difference."

_/ Nothing will. _

"It'll make things worse…"

_Is possibility? /_

"…No."

"…I'm…I'm tired. I'm just so tired."

_Move. _

"No."

_Move. _

"No."

Move.

"No."

Move. /

"No."

_Move. _

"I'm tired."

"…No."

"No."

"_No_."

"No!"

"…I…"

"…"

"_Nnnn_."

__

The second time Sasuke called was in the afternoon, from one of the barren muddy meadows Grass was plentiful with, harsh with cold and bits of snow. It wasn't sparring—it was fighting.

Naruto didn't hold back; kicked at his head and hit every now and again and punched his ribs and the bones bent. They skidded in the mud and skied over it—solid water almost that stuck to their clothes. Sasuke remembered the 'popping air bubble' feeling he got running up his arm as he shoved the blade through Naruto's body past the fox's skin.

The fantastic surge of adrenalin, release of frustration and pain, the familiar comfort of violence. The allure of power, sizzling off his fingers and Naruto's skin.

Naruto's claws tearing at his shoulder and neck. Naruto's tongue along his skin while he held his arms down, pinned him with his weight. The stink of burning flesh; fresh hollow baked earth; of ozone and lightening. The flight of birds.

The out-of-body experience as Sasuke saw himself stand up his hand tight on the sword handle but his stance shaky, uncertain. His ribs. His ribs felt like walnuts. His chest heaved. His skin was sweaty. Barely controlled anger and jealously darted behind his eyes.

His heartbeat hungry and frantic in his ears. Life lashing at his skin.

The ghost of Naruto's tongue on his neck.

Naruto half-crouched and circling him, licking his lips and elegant deadly white teeth, chest holey and black with burns that wriggled with red worms as his skin started to heal itself. His eyes vibrant, predatory, mischievous. Shifting, sparkling red wine without the actual _menace_. Playful. Hungry.

Naruto. Not Naruto. Naruto.

Sasuke pushed his libido back in his pants and slammed the door shut—it was threatening to take him by the ears and swing him around. The way Naruto was _looking_ at him…the way he knew he looked. The way he knew he felt.

"Don't touch me."

Naruto slowed but didn't stop.

"Don't touch me. I've had enough. This is enough."

"Chicken," Naruto called, a harsh growled laugh.

"Why me?" He didn't beg.

Naruto shook his head and stopped. "God you're stupid."

"Why can't you let go?" He was sick of this.

"Why can't you?" Naruto shot back, childishly. "Don't blame it all on _me_, Sasuke…"

Naruto looked disgusted now, like a kid who had been caught in the act by his partner-in-crime; familiar and comfortable. Sasuke swore he could hear the sword graze the air particles as he swung blade slowly in a perfect arch, the handle hot and perfect to his palm. Naruto circled him—it was Naruto but like an animal. He was going to charge. Sasuke knew it. He knew Naruto well enough again. He was going to charge. It was just a matter of when. And what he would do.

Something hit his wrist—he didn't let go. His butt hit the mud, then his elbow as he pulled to the side and threw Naruto on his back. Threw Naruto away. He let go of the handle. Naruto grabbed his arms and pushed; Sasuke pushed back. Naruto's teeth hit his. It didn't hurt. The Art went out of it. His back was covered in mud, along with his hands. He held Naruto's wrists as he pushed down, straddled him, and Naruto fought back up—he pushed his elbows off the ground.

His heartbeat rang in Sasuke's ears—Naruto's eyes shifted from ruby to magenta pink as he blinked the sweat out. Naruto had long eyelashes, Sasuke noticed. Curved ones. Dirty blond. The air vibrated. Naruto's wrists hit the mud with a _splat_, the skin cold and wet and his body under Sasuke's burning and shivering. Naruto's breathing was loud.

Sasuke gave him a short once-over, eyes flitting down and back up to his, and Naruto still didn't look away. His lips were soft, pliant, but demanding, and for once Sasuke didn't mind because he felt just as hungry. He sucked his tongue hard. He bucked his hips and groaned. Naruto's boot caressed the back of his knee. Something warm and liquid crystalline in him sloshed, waking up from sleep.

Sasuke got up. "God you're stupid."

He left.

Naruto tackled him from behind, and he went down.

Downward.

Downhill.

Downstairs.

A/N: Rest of chapter featured at my LJ due to censorship restrictions: See my profile under **gelfling**, and the link will be there, under **Attraction Chapter 16 We'll Make Great Pets**. Enjoy!


	17. II: Enter the Dragon Part 2

Warnings: Violence. Shukaku. More violence.

* * *

_Attraction_  
By gelfling  
_/Thoughts/  
:Invading thoughts:_

* * *

Splice: To unite or combine ends.  
--_Merriam Webster Dictionary_

Ninja: a person trained in ancient Japanese martial arts and employed especially for espionage and assassinations  
--_Merriam Webster Dictionary_

Veni Vidi Vici  
-I Came, I Saw, I Conquered  
--_Jingo_, Terry Pratchett

* * *

In a rather picturesque setting, a young lady sat. The sky was thick and gray like dirty cotton, rain threatening. Against the cold she wore a dark blue parka, seated on a blanket in a forest that had gone brown and damp with winter. Sparrows, jays, and small brown tits hopped and fluttered on the ground where she had littered fruit and sprinkled seeds.

At her side lay another young woman, pale, still, and beginning to look blue as the evening chill came closer.

From the cover of tree roots and the gloom of shadows, eyes watched her for 10 minutes, 20 minutes, before coming out gently, slowly…

A brown bird landed in her open hand and began to peck at the seeds in her palm. From behind her, a hunched creature came up, sniffed at the fruit, paused, and then bit the sleeping woman's fingers quite hard.

Ino's eyes flew open, wavered, and shut close again with a groan—she was too pained to even swear. The birds skipped off a distance while she curled up wincing. Hinata patted her shoulder while she held the jack rabbit, imported and docile in human hands. She let Ino relax a bit longer, before putting an arm across her shoulders and walking her back. It took half an hour to get to the road where the battered and rusty green truck was parked in the foliage.

Hinata slid into the driver's seat, and unsteadily started the engine. She was a better driver than Ino, but only because she drove slower, so that when she hit things, it didn't create the same level of damage.

"Did you see anything?" she asked quietly, sure they were alone.

Ino nodded, still rubbing her temples. "It's underground…along the canyon about seven…maybe 10 miles down. Can't be sure—pretty far though, but it's hell to keep track of distance in that body. He only thinks about one _thing_..."

Hinata nodded understandably. "Carrots. He was very hungry when you came back."

Ino paused for a moment, and then decided she didn't care. Hinata had been married two years now—go figure. It was probably a Hyuuga thing. Neji couldn't stand to be in the same room with her for too long, even though he no longer seemed to hate her. It was just…weird. She didn't care much right then though—she was too busy cursing Kakashi in her head.

She had said, the minute restriction on the Mind-Body Switch jutsu wouldn't allow her to move long enough in another's body to gather enough information. Besides, the jutsu only worked on _humans_—anything else lacked the necessary compartments to stick her mind in. It just wouldn't work--at the best she would get an awesome headache and at _worst_ she'd lose her mind. Literally. She hadn't been joking either.

Kakashi had said, that was interesting, but she was going to have to break the restriction. And to make friends with Floppy—they'd be working together a lot.

Ino had always had some respect for Kakashi-sensei, but that had never stopped her from hating him--The man was impossible.

What was worse, though, was when he was right.

It wasn't that the man pushed--he didn't push or force. He just asked, then waited until you did it. Ino sometimes wondered what happened when you _didn't_ do what he wanted you to--Sakura had never really said. Supposedly, if he didn't see ambition in you, he simply stopped asking. She wasn't sure how that worked, but it must've somewhere, because he even had Shikamaru up and about sometimes, and that took talent.

"Yeah… Anyway, there's about eight of them…or maybe twelve. It's hard to keep track…and I won't try switching with one of _them_…"

Hinata shook her head in agreement, the tires skidding as she turned too sharply and sped up just a _little_. "Did they know you were there?"

Ino scowled and scratched her ears. It felt like she had ticks…she couldn't twitch her nose properly either. "Don't think so. _I_ wouldn't have found 'em if I hadn't heard them. I didn't get close. Um. Do you want me to drive?"

"No!" Hinata said quickly. "I mean, no, I've got it, we're fine."

"Only we're going kinda slow…"

"We'll get there."

Ino looked at her suspiciously. "I can drive you know."

"I know," Hinata remembered the last time Ino had driven with her. Her hands still hurt when she thought of it. "I know. We'll get there."

_/In one piece./_

* * *

Gaara stared at the empty space between his knees. He didn't…_prevent_ the older man from getting on the subway car, or acknowledge him even though he felt his stare, could feel the first stirrings of fear in the air.

The man was clean cut in his perfectly margin life, regulated like the headlines of the newspaper carried under his arm, articles concerning the irregular fires down south in Grass, brief case a perfectly polite brown and gray city suit. His hair was tinted black in vanity, sparse make-up covering the insomnia exhaustion under his eyes from working all night at the office because he didn't want to go home to his wife.

He hadn't been rejected in a long time. Not since his father.

It was sinking in.

He…didn't _want_ to fight it. That would show consideration, pain on his part. He wanted to murder. That would show honor. Anger.

…Something.

He was rarely so disappointed in himself.

There was no fury. No where. Pain without fury: What the hell was he becoming? When had he started to change?

He stared at the space between his knees, seated on peeling plastic seats with bright white electronic light overhead, reflecting off the black glass windows.

He blinked, and began to vomit onto the scuffed plastic floor, making hoarse rough animal sounds. The bloody miasma of loose meat and tubes splashed with an 'fllwuupp' sound. He continued to hack, spitting out a clear, honey-thick strand of fluid that tangled in his fingers as he reached into his throat, hacking more and jabbing his hand's side along the front esophagus hard.

As the minutes and wet sounds progressed, a thin line of blood ran down his naked chest. The hacking continued with dogged stubbornness.

Eventually, Gaara held a sharp fragment of glass in his fingers. It glinted a pleasant pale salmon in the light, cheery in the cold sterilized subway car with its business man and newspaper.

He eyed it.

So.

He was finally trying to kill him. Finally. Not seriously yet—he was still alive. He would play with him first.

The car stopped, and the business man left.

Still bent over, his hand closed hard over the shard. He took off the sunglasses. He straightened up slowly, tilting his head back until it touched the windows. His breathing was slow and shallow, tired, and he opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. He had never seen it before. He had not been the first to see it; he would not be the last. It didn't belong to him.

He tilted his head forward slowly and saw his reflection in the dark window across.

His skin was pale, and he was losing his musculature. There was blood across his throat and arms, vomit spattered on his shoes and someone else's shorts.

His eyes disturbed him. They looked angry, supercilious. Disinterested, but still angry. Still angry.

The one who had commanded an army. Who had blood at leisure and disposal. Who had a lover that never loved him.

Pain without fury.

Gaara stared at himself.

"I'm not happy."

* * *

The bathroom was painted a faint green, almost pea soup color for whatever reason. In a stall, a brown haired girl pulled her underwear up under her skirt, and turned to flush the toilet with her foot. She balanced badly on one foot and walking stick, her free foot fumbling on the flusher. Something caught her eye: she turned her head to the side, and saw another girl looking at her over the top of the short stall, with black hair and black lipstick, looking quite young and bedraggled. She smiled. Her eyes looked like she had been crying, but that was the style now.

"Hi," lipstick said. "What's your name?"

"Uh. Migami?" the other girl said. She still hadn't flushed the toilet—how long had she _been_ there? _Watching_ her? Was it polite to flush while someone was watching you? Wasn't that just a little past perversion and just plain _sick_? She seemed relieved to be able to put her foot down though—her balance improved. "What're you doing?"

From the other side of her, a voice said, "That's a nice name."

Migami turned her head—there was an almost exact replica of the girl on her left to the one on her right—they were dressed very similarly, but the girl on her right didn't smile and was a little taller. Something caught Migami's eye—she turned around completely, and saw three more girls standing in front of the stalls, another by the sink, and another by the door. All seven of the girls were looking at her attentively. The light green room had flooded with black robes and girls.

She turned back to look at the first girl—she was still smiling at her, over the wall. Migami was keenly aware of the girl at her back, in her blind spot—she had completely forgotten about the toilet. But she couldn't stop staring at her eyes. There was…something missing in them. Something compelling.

The first girl reached a pale manicured hand, gently, slowly, over the stall wall, and laid it gently on Migami's shoulder. She didn't even shudder or twitch, and allowed herself to be pulled slowly closer to the wall, to the smile, and to eyes that never left hers.

For a moment, it seemed the girl was going to kiss her as her hand slid up to her neck and skull, and Migami said, quite softly, "Nara."

Then, through the hollow metal stall wall, Migami slid a knife into the first girl's heart as if it were butter. The first girl blinked at her, surprised, and looked down at her chest, and looked back up to find Migami gone, her hand holding air.

Gray-blue smoke filled the room—not from any one source, but from every atom of oxygen, equally spread and thick. No one screamed—they started coughing repressed spasms, and moved slowly through the room eyes closed and hands in front of them. By where the mirrors and sinks were, there was a choked cry, followed by a pause and a great sensation of complicated air twisting.

There was a noticeable pause, then a hiss and a collective squeal.

Outside hall of the girl's bathroom, Shikamaru leaned on his crutch and the wall, his hands occupied with a lighter and a cigar. He seemed to be having trouble standing up straight and lighting the cigar at the same time—the flame kept on flicking on and off, his hands fumbling awkwardly. There was more artificial lighting in the hall—a slim bit of his shadow slid under the bathroom door.

A man walked past him, giving him an odd look, before walking on. Shikamaru barely acknowledged it. Water began to seep from under the bathroom door—it got the soles of his sandals damp. He gave it sour look before fiddling with his lighter again.

The door opened unsteadily, and Kakashi limped out, wet and tired looking. He was bleeding slightly from one arm—he didn't look as tall as he was when he stood like that. Shikamaru threw him a sideways glance. "So…"

"It went…?" he continued when Kakashi ignored him in favor of stretching his neck. Shikamaru eyed him thoroughly.

"It went."

"They get you?"

"A little," Kakashi admitted, before walking off slowly. Shikamaru threw a glance inside the small bathroom before following him. The linoleum floor was wet, blackened from fire, and very bloody. The toilets and sinks were still pumping up water, and the mirrors were shattered, large pieces of shrapnel embedded in one body, more on the floor.

Most of them were drowned, a few had been strangled (a la Shikamaru, who had been working blind), and a couple stabbed and decapitated. All six were slowly, reluctantly, burning: the smoke stank, a faint green edge to the flame hinting it was a chemical fire. Shikamaru felt panic, "How many?" There was an edge to his voice.

Kakashi stopped dead and muttered, "Damn it." He turned around, "Are you serious?"

"There's six." Shikamaru walked closer to him, passing the bathroom and his shadow on the wall. He threw one hand up as he continued sarcastically, "And no I'm making it up to annoy you because that's _fun_…you think I'd joke about it?"

Kakashi didn't even reply—he was thinking. His one gray was unfocused—the other was covered, and finally he said, "She's injured. Bleeding from her left kidney and looking for shelter—she'd have hit the streets."

Shikamaru's shadow's hand had already gripped Kakashi's against the wall to steady him--he was wobbling faintly. "Thanks," Kakashi said dryly, "But not this time."

Shikamaru frowned, before the lights went out. He flicked his lighter on immediately, and kept talking; the light already made him a target. "You know, I really hate it when you do that. Really. It gets on my nerves, and it's not _exactly_ like this is a walk in the park." For a few seconds, he was keenly aware of _everything_--his breathing, the shadows, the light, his heartbeat, the sound of cloth rustling and twinge in Kakashi's left leg as he moved to the…

He let go of the crutch and allowed himself to fall (dodge), hand swiping out and _squeezing. _

He heard a gurgle, then another wet sound before he hit the ground with a hiss, favoring his left leg and swearing colorfully. "Oh you _bastard_…"

"You realize I'm your superior, right?" Kakashi sounded rough, hoarse.

"Really! I hate it _so much_—I thought you Jounnin were supposed to be _effective_ and stuff, not," he took Kakashi's hand and let him pull him up, "so damn reckless and stupid. _That_ was stupid."

"Gave you wider range."

"It was a risk! It was a huge risk! I might've gotten _you _on accident. I could've lost the lighter—then what? We would've been _screwed._"

"Didn't happen. Stop panicking over it."

Shikamaru got to his feet awkwardly, holding his crutch defensively and the lit flame. "I hate it. It wasn't necessary and you _know_ it."

Kakashi let go of him and faded back into the dark, hands fluttering like wings; a foot away from his feet, Shikamaru saw wet flames hinted with blue sprout up from the seventh body, illuminating the corridor a little more. Kakashi was wiping a kunai on his vest.

"So we're done, right?"

"Still have two more jobs before we get back," Kakashi watched the bodies as the flames ate them quickly, unnaturally, before trudging away with the light at his back. Shikamaru followed.

"Not tonight though—no way tonight. I want decent, proper sleep. On a _bed _with _sheets_ and _pillows_, and running water that's _warm_."

"And a slave on the side to see to your every whim?"

"Of course," Shikamaru answered without pause. "I like blondes—over 18."

"I noticed. I guess Ino didn't take very well…?"

"What? The genius 'chatting' idea? That was stupid—you don't talk to _that _girl, you get talked _at_."

Kakashi didn't say anything for a while—despite his advanced academic knowledge in the lliterary sexual world, he was a bit at loss, but only for a while. "You could try doing her hair."

"A girl's hair?" Shikamaru sounded stunned. "Why?"

Kakashi shrugged, "They like it. Usually by each other, but what the hell? Might work for you too."

"Lot of work to get laid…" Shikamaru complained under his breath. Kakashi shrugged again, "It's worth it though."

"Is it? Is it? It'd_ better _be…I've never done this much work for _anything_ before my neck is _killing_ me…"

* * *

On the bed, the young man growled low in the back of his throat, a near-purring sound that came from immediate satisfaction and luxury. Humans were generally the target of choice, clean if possible and strong as possible, but sometimes…sometimes it was nice to just come back to something a bit more…_relative_.

There was blood smeared along his body with other, darker bodily fluids, the satin sheets extremely _pleasant_ under his wet palms, silk robe keeping his back warm. The room was cool and dry—a little like a cave with blood now splattering the walls and congealing on the floor, but much more refined, unfortunately.

If the setting wasn't so damn _artificial_, so obviously _created_ and planned and not _natural_ at all, he would have been very happy here. As it was, he had no claim to it. He just a visitor.

Something of his caliber. Someone of his _renown_.

And he was only one more damn visitor.

The brat had been a fool to decline his claim over the land--it had the been the perfect moment, the perfect opportunity to pluck it and drain the place dry to another desert, another home and kingdom, and the idiot had let it slip through his fingers because he was in _love_.

Thinking of that had put him in a really pissy mood. And when he was unhappy, everyone knew about it--he liked to share it with everybody.

He hadn't eaten. He had just destroyed. It was like tearing the wrapping off and throwing the gift inside away.

Behind the sunglasses, eyes turned to see the double doors open slightly and the owner (of the room and bed and establishment and of the now-dead two girls and man, each of them only a little human in a very select sense) glide inside carefully, closing the door behind him. The owner had the same pale, slightly anorexic look of his living property, only better combed and less showy in very simple black robes that gave him freedom of movement.

Times had changed.

Now it wasn't the leader who screamed to the world—the leader was calm and quiet, a calculating bastard who would smile to your face and stab you in the back. It hadn't always been like that. Before it used to be the leader who wore red and bronze, who challenged you in your home, violating anything he could lay paws on and cut you down where the world could see, because he _wanted_ the world to see, for the world to know what he was and what was damn well going to be happening to them and for them to know that there was _nothing_ they could do to stop it.

There had been pleasure in that. He could remember doing that, years and years ago.

There hadn't _been_ this skulking in shadows business, like they were something to be ashamed of. They came from the night, they were _created_ in the night, it was theirs, always, but before, _before_, in the times the eyes behind the glasses could remember; they came out of the night to rape the daylight and murder it in the street and drag the body home and nail it to the door. They had screamed, This is mine. I am my own. _You_ will be mine. And I cannot be stopped.

He had done that.

They didn't do that anymore. Now they simply _skulked_, and aped the humans.

The man on the bed smiled at the owner.

The man by the door simply stared. He didn't look at the bodies, which was his way of acknowledging him. It was, technically, an offense. A rather blatant one. It lacked _style_.

His blood was cold and heart dead—he didn't get angry simply because the glands used to create anger were so very rusty in him. Still, he was annoyed. Offended. But this wasn't the time.

He could sense power. He could _smell_ it. The thing on the bed smelled…somehow human. It had a regular pulse and never spoke—perhaps couldn't speak. But he _reeked_ of power—old and potent. If he valued anything, the owner valued his person. He had not survived as long as he had by tempting fate. And this was not something to tempt. Not yet.

"I trust everything is to your pleasure, sir?" He had a voice like metal—cold and inanimate.

The smile continued.

"Should you desire anything else, I, and my people, are at your disposal. You need only ask, and—"

He wasn't sure _when_, exactly, the younger man had left the bed. It seemed he had only begun to prop himself up on an elbow before he was stalking across the suddenly _short_ distance that separated them. And it was a real stalk—his shoulders moved in rhythm with his hips and legs, like an animal. He grinned lopsidedly with incredible bloody charisma--knowing what he was doing and glad to be doing it. The blood smell became stronger, mixed with fear and sex and desire and pain, making his jaw ache and face feel warm—deep inside something dead pawed at its collar. The reaction surprised him.

"Sir…"

The deep warning growl started again right under his chin, like a space-age engine humming with power. He hadn't even seen him move…he was right there…he could _feel_ his body heat…_power_...

Power. Heat. Blood.

Unnaturally, he felt his skin begin to moisten, the cold blood continually leached of ATP energy and proteins begin to hurry in his veins. He resisted the urge to close his eyes. It was the smell. It was the goddamned _smell_.

A reminder of times long past. When things had been simple, straightforward. A hint ways, very physical, sensual…_wet_ ways they could _still_ be so _very_ damn simple and straightforward now.

If the desire was there. If the _daring_ was there.

Living flesh. Hot, powerful, living flesh.

The owner felt that, in many ways, his survival was in danger. It made muscles in his face itch—like a rash that will not leave and cannot be scratched. The owner felt, simultaneously, that he was being offered a chance in a lifetime. He wouldn't be _what_ he was if he didn't have the bone-deep magnet for power, a lust for blood that sustained him through the iron nails hammered through his bones and fires that had burned his skin and muscle forever. He was being teased. He was being mocked. Seduced. His mouth watered. He couldn't speak. It was hard to breathe the small amount of air he needed.

The purring continued, right there under his jaw. The room was getting smaller, revolving around the Smell and heat and steady powerful heartbeat. All he would have to do was to just reach forward…just _touch_ him…

Just once. Then he could say no. Then he could stop.

He dug his nails into his palms, hard, and bit the inside of his cheek.

He had never considered that it was possible to live _too_ long. Even so, he recognized a trap when he smelled it. And this stank.

He swallowed loudly, too loudly, it seemed. He knew it was visible. The sweat continued down his neck. "…I will see to your needs. Personally."

There was breath against his neck, against the old faded marks that were still a little sensitive, that prickled now against something warm and wet and _living_ and so damn strong…

The space in front of him vacated as quickly as it had been occupied—he could feel eyes on his back, and turned gently to see the red-headed figure standing by the double doors, still grinning softly. Waiting. Laughing at him. The contempt was written all over his smirking lips, with the sunglasses hiding his eyes.

He felt like something had been ripped from his spine. His jaw ached.

He followed him out, and led him conscientiously down to the lower sub-divisions. The cellars, as it were. All really odd bits were kept in the cellars in universes everywhere.

The figure padded at his side, barefoot and apparently completely at his ease. Nothing in his stance indicated, in any way, that he was afraid or discomforted. He made a point, however, to walk nearly at his side, only half a pace behind.

The owner's eyes didn't even flicker. So…he wanted it to seem that they _were_ equals. And as much as that rankled him, a part of him realized that even freaks could feel pride—and pride could be a handy weakness. Pride, and vanity. Besides, the owner, by that time, was aware that he was not in control.

The stairs he led them down turned into unlit stone corridors, the air rank from sweat and shit and stillness from the many cells that lined either side. The owner stopped at the bottom of the stairs—his companion's flesh shivering and rippling in the chill. It laughed softly, amused by its own body.

The figure left his side, still wearing the borrowed silk robe, blood dried and walked softly from one cell to another, occasionally stopping to pause and stare, sometimes the smile widening and cocking his head.

The owner remained where he was.

The cells were…attuned to his guest. Whatever he had picked up, whatever he had smelled or sensed on him, they sensed too. And it excited them. _He_ excited them. The blood wasn't completely dry on his hands, but nothing came close to the bars, either for fear or…respect perhaps. Something. Something that had never happened before…

He was beginning to regret the child ever coming _in_, but not so much. It was done now. The figure itself sniffed, sometimes touching the bars, the stone inquisitively, searching for something.

What he was searching for and what purpose was anyone's guess.

The owner watched the smile fade somewhat for the first time--still there like a scratch, but without the spirit backing it. The figure stared into the depths of an empty cell, into the shadows, past the wall. The owner had an excellent view of his profile, the dip in his throat and reddish smudge on his jaw.

A long silence went by, everything watching the figure's every move.

The owner continued to watch his face, the faint scent of lust and power still wafting off in the still air. He narrowed his eyes when the smile split in two, teeth still cheerfully pink. And felt the rush of power, like a rush of blood, come not from the figure but _up_ from the stone floor and walls.

_Anything_ could be turned into sand. Wood, plastic, steel—the difference lay, always, in the atomic and chemical bonds. How strong they were, how dense, how weak. It was merely a matter of splicing the bonds that say, held 50 square feet cubed of stone together, and allying them with something a bit more _useful_.

The floor shook. The bars rattled. Dust sprinkled down from the ceiling. Then there was the thunder of very thick stone cracking into a million pieces in every direction in a place made entirely of stone.

The red-haired young man seemed very pleased with himself.

The owner leaped for his face—spurred on by desire or fear or irrationality that was humanity—and he had the divine pleasure of gripping his head and crushing his skull. Shouts and clatters as things hit the bars raised the noise to a cacophony, the rumble underneath the earth providing a nice bass background as the acoustics of shouts and screams went frantic…

When the dust cleared, the steel bars had been worn down to many large well polished rocks—or very large grains of sand. Size was relative. Material was negligible.

Dust to dust, ashes to ashes.

_Everything_ returned to the desert bowl in its time.

The now-earth was still hot to the touch, from the spinning friction and sudden change that had leaped upon it like a cat, and appeared as a rather hurried, ugly crater.

The figure did not stand in the _exact_ center, but off to one side. In the exact center, chained to the last remaining complete bit of bedrock stone, lay a scaled creature of uncertain color—maybe blue and maybe green and maybe black. Where the steel touched, the scales were gray, near white. Dust had settled over it, had settled over everything save the figure itself. There were old twin scars on either side of the spine, a bit of bone still showing through. The back legs were intact, taloned—many curved fangs lined the half-open mouth, chained to the floor just under the chin.

Liquid black sockets stared at him. Not afraid, but not in challenge either. Sockets that had been hit so many times by life that they weren't going to stand up. Not even if they could. Not even the perfect opportunity came along.

The zeal was gone. The interest. It simply wasn't worth the effort.  
He had seen it before—he was usually the cause. He never cared about things like that.

It must have cost a fortune. And for what purpose? Food? Pleasure?

Probably pleasure. It's what he would have done.

Humans had overrun the world. Vampires were made from humans. So were witches, wizards, werewolves, zombies, and the elves and wild folk had descended and interbred with humans enough to become a branch species. Most monsters were merely humans with the all the brakes off and a sharper pair of teeth and glowing eyes. Nothing more, nothing less.

Possession was not assimilation.

Unlike the Fox, the Nine Tails of the Green, Shukaku had not been the victim, the _loser_ of a fight—merely bored, a little stupid, and easily amused by his human victim's whims and tragedies. But he had never been caged, never been completely powerless—lazy, yes, disinterested, yes, but never…never _changed_.

He was a creature of Hell. Of magic wild and bloody.

He wasn't even angry. He was, however, a little thoughtful as he stared. He paced closer.

The mind behind the black eyes had the potential to be as cruel and devious and arrogant as his own, had the potential to be a Problem, perhaps even a Rival in favorable circumstances. But here it was, chained, blind, and neutered by something far too human to have any sort of power.

The demons were cruel—animal spirits were vicious, would kill when it pleased and took what it wanted.

The significant difference, the bottom _line_ that ultimately separated humans from demons was very, very simple.

Monsters never claimed to be better than they were. Illusions of that nature were neither affordable nor beneficial. They had never even tried. Humans liked to believe in things that were not there, for whatever reason, good and evil. They lived for them and worshipped them, and then they died. They always died.

The Demon of Earth came to a conclusion, and placed his bare foot on the draclings neck, below the collar, and stepped down. The body spasmed once, shoulder muscles arching and twitching though the wings were long gone. And it was done.

There were good eating there—rare meat and blood so rich it was like chocolate weighed down with gold. Good eating.

He had been away a long time. The world had changed. The world had changed a good deal.

The world, however, had not changed enough.

He kept his hands clasped behind his back pensively, the arrow shot in warning exploding into a cloud several yards from his head. He wasn't in the mood, and there were no more interruptions.

He stretched his jaw and moved his thumb—opposable thumb. The best things since wholesale murder. Or before. Something. Useful, anyway.

He put the joint between his teeth and began to bite down, right under the knuckle. The bone would give, and so would the flesh, and while _his_ blood would heal it couldn't regrow.

Protests banged against his skull like a fly against glass.

The body was human. He was not. It _belonged_ to him in a very select, specific way, that meant he could drive it and trash it and crash it whenever he fucking felt like it. His power, his _blood_ was the only thing still keeping it alive, really. It was worn, battered, and no longer worth the effort of maintaining.

He had never cared for anything else before in his life. He didn't start now.

* * *

And somehow, you know, you've reached the end of your journey.

When you were a kid you used to think that life as a ninja would be something dashing and _cool_; even if it wasn't, it seemed the only job for you. The only job that actually _wanted_ your 'tendencies' and abilities, gave you the opportunity to grow. You could've become a billion things, but what you are _now_ is what you knew, even as a kid, what you were cut out to be.

You should feel lucky—most people never find out what they were cut out to be or even who they _were_. You're not sure about the other stuff—but you're _sure _that a ninja is what you were cut out to be. It fits.

It's not the life you thought it would be. It's never that neat, never that perfect. A lot of times, it downright unfair. Inhumane, horrific, and cruel. Nobody really cares who you are because no one actually _knows_ who you are—you make sure that they don't. Security mechanism. Everything is about combat: defense, security, offense, arsenal. Everything is a fight, and you get tired. You're at the end of your journey. And you're the only one who knows it.

You feel old.  
It feels terrible.

Pointless violence done for fake monetary value, and when you're really down you start to think there _is_ no such thing as a point-ful violence, but you don't talk about that. Not much point, really.

The point is, that after everything is said and done, after the pieces have been picked up and put backed together, greased and polished until Ino's smile can blind the unwary, that there's nowhere to put them. There's no _real _place to go. You're in another territory. You're still, as far as politics are concerned, in a state of war. So while you can maybe _request_ amnesty and shelter of another village, there's the possibility you'll be refused as spies. Or that you'll be received, and either drafted as one of _their_ soldiers, or killed for the knowledge and abilities your bodies know.

Probably the latter. It's the sort of thing you'd expect.

Ninja have never, ever, had a good reputation for showing mercy to their own, especially of other clans. Tolerance, yes, because that was _polite_ in modern times, but not mercy. Besides, everyone thought _Konoha_ would be the ones to win the Big Battle: No one's wants fallen heroes. It makes you somewhat of a target, actually, as if it's _your_ fault you weren't good enough to stave off something you still can't see _anyone_ defeating.

It's not worth the risk. It's just not.

You're safer here on the fringe, dangling, and that's something only Shikamaru and Hinata understand. You've got nowhere to go back _to_. You've got nowhere to go. You've can't afford to move, not with the way Shikamaru and Lee are. You're not the only group that survived the Fire, but contact is dangerous.

You survived, and you're at the end of your journey. After everything you've seen, everything you've done, and everything you _know_ and everyone you've ever loved from a distance and farther than that, this is it. This is the end.

It feels empty.  
It feels cold.  
…

It really, _really_ feels half-baked.

Most of all, it feels quiet. Too quiet. There's only the sound of your own mind and that of the former rookies: current chuunin and former gennin. Kids still. You find yourself wishing, sometimes, that Gai was there. Would've livened things up a bit. Would've understood what you meant when you didn't say what you mean.

It's nothing they need to know. It doesn't concern them. They're young, and still thinking on tomorrow and five months and a couple years from now, still young enough to think like that. They can still think of a future. They can still _imagine_ a future that's better.

They're young. It can't be helped.

You're old enough now to know that change isn't impossible, but it isn't that _simple_ either. A million little things attack every effort at once like a plague of fleas, and they can't all be scratched at once.

It's not impossible, but it's not simple.

Everyday that you wake up, eyes snapping open so quickly it hurts and the artificial Sharingan overwhelms your mind with information with a blinding smear of painful orange light and a gasp as your lungs struggle to clear themselves from the smoke, you remember that it's not that simple. You thought you were over nightmares, a long time ago, and you were. They're getting infrequent now. They aren't nightmares: they're memories. Memories of things you survived.

They wake you up, but they don't frighten you. They only wake you up and make you remember.

What really bothers you though, is what you never talk about. You've already looked around, mindful, checked out the scenery and nearly everything seems too barren or too urban or too _off_. Nothing seems…accurate. Not for you.

You're only 33, 34 years old.

But you know how things go. Ninja aren't quite as human as everyone else, a little like police, a lot like samurai, hired out and not in complete control of destiny or choices and keenly aware of it. Biologically, you're vastly different from the rest of society—the Byakugan is only one example of a zillion bloodline abilities.

You look around, feeling old and out of place and tired, but you can't find any place good enough. This wasn't where you planned to die. These weren't the _people_ you planned to die with—not when you were a kid and just starting out. Many of the people you wanted to die with are already dead though.

This is where your journey ends.  
This is where you die.  
This wasn't what you had in mind.

* * *

Picture:

From an aerial view, a kid in his late teens was standing very still, looking dazed, while ribbons of dark brown circled his feet like vultures. There was a haze of beige dust hanging low over the woods, but it didn't seem to bother him. He looked surprised, a little stupid, and didn't look up—he kept his eyes forward.

A little while ago he had been attacked and caught off guard—unbelievable, but very clearly possible.

Black strips streaked through the air from different directions and for a second they seem to be only imaginary shadows, but then they slow down in the dust. Seven shuriken hung in midair like fruit in jelly, two feet from their target who still hadn't moved, eyes forward and unfocused.

Then he vanished.

He didn't _run _or dart away: he just wasn't _there_ anymore. There wasn't a poof of smoke or even an afterimage of where he had been. There was a vague impression in the ground of his feet, but it was as if the boy simply stopped existing. The strands of dirt settled on the ground, and to the far left, out of view, was a thump and quick crackle of dry wood. There was a thud—metal embedding in wood—and another thump. There was a sound like paper shuffling, and then silence.

But by that time, Kakashi was already running.

* * *

He had to give them credit.

The Rain Ninja had always been clever—cunning secretive bastards, not necessarily powerful but deadly where they couldn't be seen, and they were _incredibly_ good at not being seen.

They had the wrong sort of attributes to be fighting something of a demon's energy, even with a human mind driving the power. It was a mistake from the beginning—they hadn't even waited to make sure the rain jutsu would support them.

Kakashi had heard about the offer, a single assassination for _quite_ a sum of money. It wasn't the money but the specifications that had caught his attention.

_/So…found where the other one went./_

Sasuke had gone to Grass, and from the sound of things, was still there. There had been fires in Grass, unusual for the time of year, considering the weather and cold. Kakashi had surprised himself—he was actually a little hurt. He had knew it would come to that—even as kids, it was impossible to keep those two apart and impossible to keep the peace as well. But…you'd think Sasuke would've learned _something_ by now. But apparently not.

And now there was the second one.

He had only _really_ come to watch. Maybe learn something new, something useful, see if maybe the demon had _some_ weakness to be exploited. He hadn't come to fight—the Rain ninja would kill him if they found him. He had hidden himself a good distance off, where he couldn't even see them properly and downwind. It was team of five—a good number, though for something this volatile Kakashi would have preferred something smaller. Three made up the main attack, the other two hung back as back-up and to retreat if the situation got too heated.

From his rough information, Kakashi assumed that perhaps one had gotten away, although now he was starting to rethink that theory for a very unsettling reason. Perhaps this time he had been too reckless.

As fast and silently as he was going, even with his bad leg, he was being followed. He couldn't hear it, couldn't be sure of it, but still…

* * *

Twenty-two minutes later, Gaara tapped his finger against his arm irritably, twitching gently. He was haphazardly dressed in a stained shirt advertising a restaurant and loose jeans. He still had a full-blown battle going on with his hair. His eyes had changed the most though. Before they had just been hateful and insane—now they were hateful and insane and empty. He looked up at the tree, disappointed.

"_This_ is what they send for me? It's _old_…" he said the word with distaste.

He had been expecting Sasuke. He had wanted _Sasuke_.

He had not gotten what he wanted.

He had not shown mercy, but neither had he shown interest. He had other problems to worry about, and it wasn't even _Sasuke._

"Fucking _hell_…" he growled softly. "Well…you'll do."

"Will I?"

"You'll have to."

"Uh, what is it _exactly_ I'm going to be doing _for_?"

"I need your blood. You're _old_, but you're big enough."

"Well, that's…nice. You're going to drink it?"

"No, not me. But yes."

"Vampires?"

"No. A wall."

"Wall?"

"What? …It's a _wall_," Gaara stated, sounding almost sane if impatient. He had been feeling…_jumpy_ lately. Perhaps he was getting nervous about dying, suddenly. Dying had never bothered him before, but now that it was about to happen he couldn't wrap his _mind_ about it. It was rather unsettling. He just felt skittish now; he had been blackly depressed before—maybe he was just getting used to being blackly depressed. "It eats blood."

"Are you sure it doesn't just dry?"

"_No_. It doesn't _dry_; the wall eats it." Gaara looked thoughtful suddenly. "Besides, you piss me off."

Kakashi felt his blood pressure pound inside his veins as the sand began to _squeeze_…

"All right, all right. Fine…all right?" Kakashi called out annoyed but defeated.

_/…defeated? You're…surrendering? This is new. This hasn't happened in a long while./_

Gaara was curious. He was tired. He was hungry. He had been hoping it would've been Temari…

He wasn't sure why. He felt a little disappointed.

He wanted…he didn't exactly _want_ to see her but for some reason he'd…he'd just…thought maybe that she…

But then he had always been alone. He knew that.

The pressure eased off Kakashi's ribs--they felt like a soda can being stepped on. "I want to look at it. Let me down from here, I'll look at it, and then we'll come right back to where we were, okay?"

Gaara blinked. Everyone was screwing with him lately. That bastard actually dared to insult him _now_? Him? What the _fuck_? He stopped feeling like himself for a couple days and suddenly people thought he _wasn't_ him? He stopped feeling skittish. Now he just felt angry.

The sand snapped like a cat on his ribs.

Kakashi made a sound in his throat, and his mismatched eyes bulging slightly before closing. Blood dripped slowly from his mask. He coughed.

"Ow. Well. Can I at least see the wall?"

"_Noooo_… You'll run away." Gaara shifted his weight and rubbed his arms--when was the last time he had eaten? Real food, not stuff that somehow wound up in his stomach that he vomited up later on? When, exactly?

Kakashi seemed to find the prospect amusing--perhaps he laughed, or perhaps he only choked on bodily fluids. "If you really want to kill me, there's not a whole lot I can do about it. You being _you_ and all…And your mind is obviously made up."

Gaara blinked, slowly, like a lizard. He shifted his weight, deliberately, from one foot to the other. He was still hungry. Kakashi refused to perspire.

"Why should I?"

"Because you're bored?"

Gaara tilted his head. He didn't even smile. Moved his hand gently and Kakashi gasped out on his last breath. The blood dripped from the mask rapidly now.

It was _what_ he gasped that made Gaara hesitate. He had heard plenty of pleas for mercy in his time, more threats on his life and even more curses that were often accurate and truthful. But he hadn't heard that word that Kakashi gasped out in a while. Not even he said it anymore. There was no point, no reason. Naruto hadn't said it real often…only when he felt like it or forgot.

No one else knew it.

It was a bit like the ceiling—he could see it, but it didn't belong to him. He had no claim over it but it defined the space around him. It defined _him_ but he didn't own it or even have influence over it. It wasn't…

It wasn't fair.

A lot of things weren't fair.

He felt his heart spasm through the sand, the vibrations tapping against his chakra that was laced in the sand. Thoughtlessly, Gaara loosened the pressure. Kakashi coughed, and inhaled wetly.

Strange green eyes filmed over with blue and rimmed thickly with black stared at the older figure now breathing quicker but easier now, his strangely matched eyes staring down at him tiredly. He sounded bored.

"You…trained him, didn't you?"

Kakashi didn't hesitate--he wasn't sure which _him_ Gaara was talking about, since he had only ever had one team under him, but that was no excuse to hesitate--when in doubt, lie, lie, lie and do it well.

"…I taught him some. Not everything…. I never taught him to kill." And that applied to all three of his former students. Not that. He had taught them to fight and survive, but not to kill.

"And Sasuke…and the other one. The dead one."

Kakashi was old, Gaara realized. Not old as in years, but old as in experience. He had seen Naruto grow up, and Gaara vaguely remembered him bringing in Sasuke to the Chuunin exams incredibly late. He hadn't paid too much attention to him; he was more interested in the Uchiha's blood. He still was. He got stuck with the old guy instead.

"I killed her. He didn't tell you that."

To Gaara's surprise, Kakashi's eyes didn't reflect emotion. None. He looked tired with bruised bones and nearly broken leg. But no emotion. Perhaps he had known. Perhaps he didn't care. Gaara wouldn't have cared if it had been him. But he had expected something. Whatever. It didn't matter. Few things really mattered, because few things really _lasted_.

In fact, Gaara was starting to think that _nothing_ mattered, because nothing lasted. The sand lasted—the bones and bodies of things broken down to smaller matter. Small, small tiny matter that did big things when grouped together. Nothing mattered. Nothing lasted. Not even love—_especially_ not love.

"I could kill you."

"You could," Kakashi admitted. "But why? Really, what good is would it do? One more among millions…"

"It'll shut the wall up. It'll shut your mouth. You would kill me."

Kakashi didn't deny it--what would be the point? Not even he was _that_ good a liar. "I won't try--what would be the point? You can sense my chakra and you know what you've done to my body--I'm no threat to you."

And…it was something of a gamble, but Kakashi stated deliberately, "Not like this."

"You're stalling." _/And still talking.__ That hurts; your lungs should hurt./_

"Yes," Kakashi answered honestly only after hesitating a little.

Gaara sniffed. "Don't tell me, let me guess: You don't want to die."

"That's absolutely right! I don't. It's this sort of thing."

Gaara allowed tiny hints of a scowl develop around his eyes and mouth. "If you aren't ready to die, you have no right to kill. You're no warrior. You're nothing."

"No--I'm a ninja. It's not fair. It's stupid, in fact." Gaara said nothing. He didn't even move or remove the very faint traces of the scowl. He waited, and watched. Kakashi did not disappoint. "Shinobi have our own code--I never claimed to be a warrior. Killing is human--what should and shouldn't be done isn't always what happens."

Gaara said nothing. He should kill him. By rights, he really should. Because he could. Because he was preaching at him, and that was _irritating_, and not his place. It would shut him up--he had trained him and Sasuke. He deserved it. He wasn't a threat, not even remotely (and that was not exactly true but Gaara was not thinking logically and Kakashi knew that) but he was annoying. Extremely. Because. He knew…he had known Naruto when he was young and still _him_. But he…he still _knew_ that word. That single word. It was dangerous and tempting and dangerous _because_ it was tempting.

"You're lying."

Kakashi shrugged even though his arms were squished. "No, but I can't make you believe me." He looked away briefly, squinting at the early afternoon sun. "I won't hurt you."

"You couldn't anyway."

"Well, _yeah_, but I'm surrendering is what I mean to say. I won't _try_."

"Why should I care?"

Despite himself, despite his training, Kakashi did hesitate momentarily. "Because I want to talk to you."

"You just want to live."

"Well, that too. But I can't kill you, so we should talk instead."

"Why?"

"Because violence doesn't solve everything."

"Yes it does."

"It solves most things. But not everything."

"What if I don't want to talk to you?"

"I'd say you were lying."

The sand tightened around his ribs, a heavy ugly weight on his stomach and hurt his elbows so badly Kakashi was sure they were being dislocated out of their joints. They weren't, because he knew how that felt and even though this was damn painful it wasn't that. Still, his gaze didn't waver.

He was looking for reactions. It was a test. It would have an end, but it all depended on how he passed.

Kakashi said that _word_ again, the one that had made Gaara spare his life. The special word. The old one. The old one that almost everyone had forgotten about like it didn't matter anymore.

"Gaara…"

The sand dropped him distressingly fast, so fast that he barely had time to register his free arms and legs because the ground was rushing up alarmingly quick. He landed on his feet and cursed his ankles when the pain lanced up his legs, accumulating at his knees and his left hip, his breathing seeming too much for his lungs to accommodate, crumpling a little on the ground.

From the moment he touched ground, even before that, he kept his eyes on the red sneakers. He hadn't moved from where Kakashi left him, and the pain thankfully kept him for automatically going for a weapon. That would be a mistake. The pain was actually so intense that he suspected he had some internal bleeding. Fairly certain.

When he did manage to stand up gingerly, muscles and bones and other assorted organs screaming in protest because his body _really _wanted to pass out unconscious right then, he found Gaara ignoring him effectively as he inspected one of his knives. The sand was banked in a wide circle around them inoffensively. Kakashi eyed it as one eyes a wolf. Slowly, painfully, he managed to make his way over to the redhead who was examining his knife entranced.

Gaara ignored him pointedly until he was a foot away, the sound of his breathing more-than-comfortably loud. Green eyes blinked innocently, almost childlike and unsuspecting as he looked up at him, and without a word he extended the knife, holding it out handle-first.

Kakashi was free, the sand was at a distance, and now he was going to be armed. Behind the pale mask, something in Gaara grinned expectantly. The shinobi was old, true, but he was fast. If he went in to stab him, Gaara would see it, but maybe he wouldn't able to dodge out of the way or call the sand fast enough. The _good_ thing was that whatever he did to him wouldn't be enough to kill him. But maybe it'd be enough to _hurt_ him…

Gaara smiled invisibly. Not widely, but a small half-dead smile at the corner of his lips.

Long bruised fingers grabbed the handle after looking from it to Gaara, and he felt the blade run between his finger pads like silk. If Kakashi had been looking up, he would have seen eyes widen with surprise when he shoved the weapon into its holster without a thought. He pulled his headband down over his left eye, warding the Sharingan. He hid the wince--one day, the eye would kill him.

He straightened and looked him in the eye without blinking, rotating one aching shoulder in its joint absently. "So…"

Alarmingly bright but strangely empty green eyes stared at him, as if waiting for the next attack, the next trick. Kakashi popped some chewing gum into his mouth, and then offered the packet—doing it without removing his mask. He _was_ faster than he looked.

Gaara turned around and started walking without a second thought, Kakashi following a few steps behind and the sand trailing alongside of them and behind through the bushes and grass with a faint rustling sound, like a million of ants out on parade.

And thus they proceeded to the wall.

* * *

It should have come as no surprise that Gaara walked too quickly on purpose. Kakashi was straining for breath when he dropped from the tree, walked with a slight limp on his left side at the best of times, and currently felt like a lawnmower had run over his legs and just about everything else. He had bone fractures in his legs, at least two of them below the knee in his right leg. Regardless, he kept pace. The sand was right behind him.

He had slipped in a few painkillers in along with the bubblegum, but whatever they were doing he was barely feeling. If he dropped, Gaara would kill him. If he suddenly became uninteresting or incoherent, Gaara would kill him. If he strayed too close to the red sneakers or strayed too far away, Gaara would kill him.

He was walking with a known killer—not just a murderer, not just a criminal, because they did what they did with some reason, be it temporary insanity or stupid hate or simple greed—but someone who'd kill him simply because he was alive and not yet dead. He'd do it simply because the opportunity was there.

A very simple character to understand, Gaara seemed.

So with these thoughts in mind, feeling like absolute backwater, old gum between his molars that felt a tad _too _loose on the right side, and absolutely lost with only a very small idea of how to get back, Kakashi was industriously reliving page 123 of _Come Come Paradise _vol. 4 right before the second climax. He had always liked that chapter, he reflected. What a great book…too bad there wouldn't be any new ones out for a while, not until he started writing them himself, since Jiraiya obviously wouldn't be able to do it, what with being dead and all.

Steadily, through bits of rubble and out of the gray forest, through old ghost little villages the size of a few houses grouped loosely together, the pair marched. _Marched_. Past stakes shoved in the ground, past the burned areas, past the scattered bones that crunched under Gaara's sneakers and Kakashi avoided respectfully, past the scoured shacks of peasants and farmers, often synonymous. After some time, around sunset, they reached the site.

There was a concrete wall, broken off to knee-level and splattered with dark stuff. Gaara went around it, studying the ground intently and sand touching at one spot that looked no different from any of the other ravaged plots and wrenched it open, revealing many stairs going down. Then he turned to look at Kakashi.

The older shinobi walked carefully to where he was, and when it became apparent that Gaara was waiting on him, green eyes dull, Kakashi stepped in and then walked down.

Suppose Gaara shut the door and let whatever it was that was down here eat him? Suppose it was all a very silly trap? Suppose he just wanted to lock him up down here so he could kill him without worry of interruption?

Kakashi didn't have an ace up his sleeve that he was readily aware of. He was stronger than he seemed, more powerful than he felt, he knew. His chakra was there. He just wasn't itching to fight. He _really_ wanted to take a nap. Besides, his body wouldn't be able to take it. He had the energy to defeat the monster, but not the stamina, not right then.

About seven steps down—this thing was very deep, however deep it was—the little sunlight that he'd been seeing by slammed off, the cellar door shutting behind. He sighed, a little irritated, and considered going back up immediately or just relaxing down here for a while. He couldn't sense any extreme energy close to him. Couldn't sense any _faint_ energy near him.

"What are you waiting for?" Irritation.

Oh. He wasn't alone. Well…never mind then. Scrap that second option.

Warily, slowly, he continued walking downward, his senses heightened more than his head felt comfortable with and his Sharingan still warded—he didn't have the energy or endurance to handle it further. He could smell the faint tang of old blood. The stairs seemed to go down forever.

He stumbled when he hit the ground, and then slipped further on something slick. He caught himself on the edge of the doorframe, and felt further wetness under his fingers. The smell was overpowering down here. He could feel Gaara watching him interestedly from behind, like one watched a mouse running in a wheel; trying really hard and not getting anywhere.

He straightened carefully, and brought his fingers up to his covered nose and sniffed. _/Yep./_ He rolled his shoulders. "There a light?"

There was a sputtering and a flare behind him from a single candle in the middle of the room, and the first thing he saw were Gaara's green eyes staring into him. Not at him. Into him.

Perhaps it was the light on Gaara's eyes or face or just his overall weariness, but another wave of regret seemed to brush his mind; regret that insanity preyed strongest on the very powerful, and kept them weak in the mind. Then he turned around. It took some time for him to absorb all of it. He wasn't in the habit of throwing up at _anything_, he noted with some pride and queasiness, or else he would've done it.

"Uh…Excuse me? This isn't a wall. This is a _room._"

Gaara shrugged unseen behind him. Whatever. "What can you tell me about it? Was it worth living a few hours more?"

Something darted at the edges of Kakashi's vision. He didn't catch it, or see it when he looked around. His skin felt cold.

It was one thing to drench a room in blood. Kakashi _was _an old shinobi—15, 16 was considered a normal age for adults, and it was rare for shinobi to live past 30. After thirty, thirty-five they just dropped off, like so many flies. Some stayed on, and they became the Jounnin, the Sennin, Anbu, and Hokage. Everyone else just _ended_.

In his time, Kakashi had seen some truly gruesome things, things that still woke him up around 2:50 AM even though they were years old, even before the fox and fire and all it's problems. Even before the Fourth had died. When he had been a child still, perhaps the strongest in the village. It was one thing to drench a room in blood.

He had seen the dead mixed with the living often enough just because there wasn't space to keep them separate. He'd seen family reduced to eating one another gradually, just because there wasn't anything else to eat, because even the rats wouldn't enter grounds like that.

Seeing all that he had, and knowing that he was still walking and breathing and that for all horror that there was in the world…all the horror in the world that had ever been and continued on. The pain and horror in man didn't change; it never would. The methods changed, but not the carnage. Naruto had been right about that, but had been just plain _stupid_, plain _emotional_ in his reaction. Killing other people did not make them wrong and him _right_; it just made them dead.

There was a patina of blood and gore over the walls and floor, a thin layer of gruesome light pink and dark brown on the ceiling. Lumps of things Kakashi would probably recognize if he got a good look at them were clumped together on the floor, and stiff shapes hauled off to a corner along with a variety of bones, few unbroken.

The flooring, ceiling, and three of the walls had deep grooves cut into them; with a knife or other blunt object. It nearly resembled a child's scribble, except that there was a pattern in it that Kakashi didn't recognize.

"You bring them here. You kill them here."

Gaara didn't answer. That was obvious.

Kakashi shoved one hand in his pocket and continued studying his surroundings detachedly. Gaara had brought _him_ here. "I don't see anything eating it, not even on the ceiling. There's probably something wrong with your eyes."

Gaara brushed past him, and he found himself staring at the back of his neck. At the base of his skull, where a knife inserted could sever the brainstem and that would _have_ to kill the bastard no matter how good he was at healing, but it would have to be done all-out and very quickly. Some electricity added wouldn't go amiss either. If the neurons could be shocked hard enough…but would that kill the Other soul as well? Or simply the dominant one?

Gaara turned around to look at him from his place by the far wall, standing near the corner. It was the only without markings scratched on it, but it was still thickly covered; too thick to tell what the original color had been. Without a word or gesture, he seemed to beckon him. Kakashi went, still mulling over the possibilities the neck presented. His earlier words of surrender didn't even come to mind. Wordlessly, Gaara pointed at a section of wall.

"Looks like pretty old blood to me. Smells like it too."

Gaara took one of his knives from his belt holster before he could protest, grabbed his arm and sliced along it hard. His fingers were a vice on Kakashi's arm, so even though he had jerked automatically he hadn't moved an inch. He didn't cry out, and wasn't sure if he wanted to attack. He hadn't planned on attacking the demon this early while there was still _time _but---

Gaara let go of his arm; the knife neatly covered in blood, and dragged the flat of the blade along of the wall . Kakashi clamped a hand over the wound to staunch the flow. He was still armed even though Gaara had the other knife. He had no idea if the sand had followed or not. He hadn't heard it coming down, and he didn't want to take his eyes off the kid.

"Well? Are you watching or what?" Gaara asked irritably.

Kakashi looked the wall that was…soaking up his blood. Like a sponge. Huh. Well. Okay that was weird.

The red of his blood, only faintly brighter and distinguishable from the rest of the dried old burgundy that covered the wall, was vanishing. There were vague hints of white as the wall's natural color began to seep through.

The sand grabbed his wrist again, "Listen," and pressed his palm against the wall covered in gore and blood. Kakashi started to listen and---

Snatched his hand away and flushed to his ears, holding his wrist painfully hard, trying to staunch the sound ringing through his bones. He didn't scream. He felt like it, but he didn't scream. Every fracture and scratch and break and torn muscle in his body felt like it had exploded, the pain overriding his control and something else…something else overriding _his _control and widening the pain.

"See? I told you. "

"What is that?" Kakashi didn't scream; there was no fear in his voice.

"I don't know." Innocent green eyes looked blankly at him. "I just feed it."

"Why?"

"Why not?" Gaara shrugged.

If not for his mask, Kakashi would have gaped at him like a fish. Gaara acted like…it was some sort of Saturday _hobby_. His heart was still racing, his skin felt absolutely icy, everything _ached_ and he still had the aggravating impulse to scream. Kakashi liked to think he was _above _screaming. "That isn't…normal."

"Neither am I. What's your point?"

"That's not…it, the thing is that—" Kakashi risked a look back at the wall, where the stain of his blood had been absorbed quite neatly into the wall. Pristine white paint glared at him. _/…oh. Ooh…not good. Not good, not good./_ Gaara was looking at the spot captivated.

"It likes you." green eyes studied him with new interest. Hints of a smile started to form near his lips without ever touching his eyes. "That is interesting."

Kakashi felt his skin turn cold again and his hair rise. "That thing…is some kind of seal. I don't think feeding it is such a good idea. Whatever it's sealed against is powerful, and…" for as long as he kept talking, Gaara wouldn't attack. That was the important thing. Keep talking. Gaara was still studying him like a mouse in a cage, and while his guard wasn't down it wasn't as high as it had been when they had first met.

There could be opportunity. It probably wouldn't be enough to save his life, but if you couldn't defend, then you attacked. You did _something_--you didn't just wish you weren't there like an idiot.

Randomly, Kakashi found himself really analyzing the wall. "…And old. Very old." He looked at his hand, and to Gaara's surprise—_don't show fear_—walked back up to the wall, and lightly placed his fingers on it. Then pulled them away quickly but… "It's intelligent." He placed his palm against it flat again, before pulling away just as quickly.

"If you're trying to impress me, it isn't working," Gaara said flatly.

"I'm not," Kakashi replied absently. And he wasn't. He was stalling for time, a very different proposal. He pulled out another knife and began prying lightly at the plaster.

"Don't do that!" For the first time, emotion bled into the demon's voice. He was snarling. Something yanked the knife from his hand so hard it stung his fingers--Kakashi thought he had seen brown wisps in the air, but perhaps not. Green blazed.

"What? I'm just looking—"

"_Don't._ You have no idea what you're doing."

_/He's afraid of it.__ He expected me to be afraid too. Or something./_ Behind the mask, Kakashi wanted to grin, but he didn't. He didn't even allow it to come through in his voice.

"Aren't you curious? Maybe it's another demon, but somehow I don't think so. Something else no one else has ever seen…fascinating. Don't you want to see?"

He waited quietly for Gaara to come in.

"Perhaps."

He wasn't too close to him, but neatly within arm reach and somewhat towards his back. Kakashi allowed the chakra energy that he had been gathering diligently to manifest itself with a light buzzing and cracking and blinding white light around his right hand. He turned his head to find Gaara looking blankly surprised over at his shoulder, eyes a bright funky color and the sand a huge agitated wave behind him.

"Let's find out together, okay?"

"You wouldn't."

Kakashi smiled.

Sand (floating in the air above his head) hit his shoulders and yanked on his neck, and he pulled away, slipping away in a complicated slipping gesture that was more illusion than genius, allowing it to trap him in a corner, his hand splattering flat against the wall, a glaring lightening and buzzing a high, furious white sound. Green eyes looked at him—helpless? No, but one could mistake it for that. Shocked. Or just annoyed.

"You wouldn't."

Kakashi smiled again. It was not a nice smile. It only touched one eye.

"It'll kill you!"

"You'll feed me to it. What've I got to lose? Why not?"

Gaara seemed to waver. The sand eased off his ribs. His feet still didn't touch the floor.

"Don't."

"Release your claim on my life and body. Swear it on your name." Kakashi wasn't joking around. It came through in his voice.

Gaara frowned. _/How the hell did he know about that/_ "No."

"Then…" the buzzing was nearly deafening now. Gaara was tempted to shield his eyes from the light and squinted instead.

"Go ahead then! Do it! It'll eat you, destroy you! I was just going to kill you but if you'd prefer _that _then do it!"

"I'll take you with me," Kakashi pointed out so softly he wasn't sure if the other had heard it or not.

"I can't be killed"

"No? Maybe you're right." and Kakashi's smile colored his voice again. "But it's alive and caged and unhappy--I don't think you would make good friends to get sealed in with it."

"It'll take you too."

Kakashi managed to shrug somehow, the glaring white buzz never fading from his hands. "So? I'm an old man to be a ninja; I could use one last grand adventure. I'll die sooner than you, I'm sure."

Gaara said nothing. He did nothing. He kept glancing between Kakashi's hand glaring a hateful lightening white to the small smile that his mismatched eyes were giving him. The sand didn't relent; neither did the lightening.

Without touching his mouth, his eyes swore hatred.

The sand dropped Kakashi completely, but he didn't stop touching the wall, never mind what it was saying to him. He wasn't listening. He also didn't move.

"Get out."

"Swear on your name."

"I'm giving you five fucking minutes to get out."

"I won't make it in time. I can't and you know it. I want the promise on your name, nothing less."

That was a shade of green Kakashi would remember for a long time. When Gaara was—not _happy_, because he was never happy, not ever in his whole life, but when he was _satisfied_, his eyes turned a darker shade of green as more blue filmed over. When he was completely bloody furious, as it sometimes happened, his eyes turned pure yellow with shards of black for the pupil. Right now, they were a sickening shade of greenish-yellow with pupils that Kakashi knew weren't human.

"I'll do it. But it'll take you too. For as long as you keep your hands off me, I'll keep my hands off you."

"You'll never get another _chance_."

"All the better for you then, eh?"

Kakashi calculated. The sand was swirling in disturbing ways; patterns were immerging that he recognized and didn't like. The wall was talking to him through his hand. Inhuman eyes hadn't stopped spitting hatred at him yet. Oh, and his body still felt impaled several times over. Yeah—it was definitely Monday. Only Mondays felt this incredibly _shitty_.

"Deal?" he asked again.

"You can't keep that up forever."

"I don't have to."

"You think you can do this to me?"

"I already have." Gaara's eyes widened slightly at that calm statement.

"You said you surrendered. You _lied_. Your word means _shit_ to me."

"I said I wouldn't hurt you and I haven't. Not a finger."

Gaara's eyes narrowed, and his voice turned incredulous. "What makes you think you can _do_ this?"

Kakashi let his eyes widen innocently. "Why not?"

"This is…this is where he gets it from! From you…Naruto learned to be a bastard from _you_. You trained him."

Kakashi considered that statement. He tried to be a logical man, all his life, and sometimes he managed it.

"Yeah, but he learned more from life than he did from me. I never taught him to murder."

Gaara stared, his eyes looking slightly surprised.

Kakashi rolled his neck again along his shoulders. He still hurt. After all that, he still _hurt_. And there was sand in his _sandals_; he really hated that; there were few things he hated more than having sand in his sandals. It wasn't even a funny _pun_ and his legs and feet hurt badly enough.

But at least things were looking better now. It wasn't quite what he had set out to do, but it was good enough that he could work with it.  
_  
I release from you from my claim, mind and body_ if _in return you don't touch me, you don't come near me, you stay as far away from me as humanly possible. Swear it. _

On my name.

On my name.

Kakashi caught the slur on 'humanly possible.' Oh sure; every other word and then some coming out had malice dripping off the consonants, but there had been an outright revulsion on that little phrase. He wondered who had termed it; Naruto or Gaara? One of the two. He wasn't sure if it would be appropriate to contradict the redhead or laugh. He hadn't done either but both had crossed his mind a couple times.

He was being followed. First at distance, where he hadn't been real sure, and then he couldn't figure out who it was; Gaara or something else, a werewolf perhaps. Those had been pretty thick around these parts at one time until the really vicious hunters had moved in. Then his right eyebrow had shot up.

_/Ahhhh…I see./ _He didn't turn around, not even when he could hear the slight parade of ants slithering through the bushes, not even when he didn't hear but could still sense the silent footfall several feet behind him, steady. He didn't say anything, not even when the corner of his eye caught a flash of red.

Gaara approached him from his right side, the side he could still see out of. Neither said anything. It took some time for him to notice, but…Gaara knew where he was going. And he was…_wasn't_ leading him out. He was watching him to see how long it would take before Kakashi became incredibly lost.

It took three hours.

By that time, Gaara had disappeared along with the sunlight, dusk and darkness and the very hardy and very vicious mosquitoes filling in the gap. Kakashi didn't swear or get angry. Instead, he climbed a tree, reclined on a branch, and waited for the stars to come out so he could get his bearings and read _Come Come Paradise_ by whatever light there would be.

He was about four miles off course, and six away from the spot he cheerfully called bed but had never ever thought of as home. Back at the ranch, Iruka was probably climbing the walls and Lee pulling him down. Hinata would be quietly giving herself ulcers and Neji and Shikamaru would both be dreading the morning if he hadn't come back by then. Ino would be calling them all idiots; of them all, she probably had the most confidence in him. That was kind of strange, he'd admit.

No one would come out looking for him until after daybreak; it was the one rule Kakashi really _hated_ and kept laid down. If a team or member had to stay out after dark, then so be it. But no one was to go putting themselves in danger to retrieve them. Or him. The darkness didn't belong to them anymore, and the whole could survive still without one member. But the night didn't belong to them anymore. And that really hurt.

Kakashi sighed quietly to himself as leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

True night fell.

It didn't exist everywhere at all times, but it existed somewhere at sometime, and had been everywhere at one time. You recognized when it was there. Hair stood up, the skin turned cold and you realized that for all your thick walls and sure weapons and unrivaled knowledge, the night was stronger than anything wrought in daylight. It had been, and it always would be. The night that lurked on the edge of firelight, patiently waiting for the final embers to burn out. Morning made it leave, but it never chased it too quickly in case it caught it.

Kakashi breathed.

True night swarmed.

The mosquitoes had retreated to safety, the cold and thicker predators pushing them back. Mist the color of a greasy black city sidewalk curled and writhed along the ground, around the trees and between the leaves. Things on four legs and two prowled between the straight trunks, crawling or flopping silently, eyes rolling. Bone chilling cold set in, settled in the joints, stilling even the rattle of the leaves into silent immobility. Nothing stirred, and there was no sound. If you pressed your ear to wood, you could hear the sap flowing.

Kakashi was still.

True night hunted.

The skin was hairless, thick and clung tightly to the frame. Despite logic, it was slightly pale instead of some dark color for the night. Lizard-like eyes bulged and swept constantly, never seeming to blink or close even for a second lest something incredibly interesting and lethal happen in that fateful second. Broomstick thick arms and legs propelled it forward, ending in sharp, thin extensions of bone; claws.

Kakashi slept.

True night climbed.

It came from behind, slinking forward, clinging to the wood like a gecko to glass. It wasn't incautious enough to come from the front or below, and too skilled to make a sound. Cleanly, it cut along his throat in a swift movement. And for a second lizard-like eyes widened to see the body not jerk or slump forward, but combust into a cloud of smoke.

With its eyes open, the bogey died.

Kakashi pulled his knife out smoothly and cleaned it against the bark. He shoved the dirtied blade back in its holster—he didn't clean it on his clothes for the poison—and turned around to greet the second monster of the night to visit him.

Ordinary green eyes watched him, curious that he was not yet dead. But for the faint dead smell that clung to it and the demon clawing at the inside of his skull, Gaara would not have sensed the bogey coming. But somehow Kakashi had. He had been sure it would kill him.

Without a word or second glance, Gaara left.

Kakashi settled himself down again, and closed his eyes.

* * *

There are few things more annoying than an unpaid debt.

It itches and scratches, and will not leave.

It can drive people mad, or to do very stupid things, which may be similar.

* * *

_/That was surprisingly easy./  
/I wonder if they're actually bound to those rules though…/_

What he didn't like was that he was still so badly hurt. There was a limit to how many healing Jutsus Kakashi had learned—far less than offensive ones. It was enough to keep him walking, keep him steady, but still…his chakra were reserves had their limit.

He kept his ears open as he staggered gently forward, moving slowly and painfully.

Regardless, due to either superiority on the other side or his own physical deficiency, he never saw it coming. He realized what was happening _after _he was hit, going straight for his left kidney and Kakashi turned aside slightly falling back, making it only _slice_ through his skin instead of his organs, got his feet back under him and knew he had about four steps left before he collapsed and couldn't get up.

The Sharingan was out of the question. Since he couldn't turn it off or modify it like a true Uchiha, it was more a liability and blind spot than anything else.

He heard a slight growl to his side, in his blind spot, and saw a flash of flesh travel in front of his neck in his peripheral vision. Before the other hand gripped his shoulder and before his neck could be snapped in half, straight from the Konohakagure Academy textbooks, straight from the Yondaime's lessons, came the list of vulnerable body points.

There are eight targets. Kidney, heart, subclavian artery, jugular vein, liver, lungs, spinal column, and the throat.

He was dead. It was here. It happened here. It happened now.

It had been hard losing his eye, and worse having it replaced. Living was painful. In death, there was no pain. Death was a mercy. Death was peace.

Kakashi was a contradiction trapped in an enigma that got nervous placed to close to the light and absolutely placid and blank in close inspection.

He pushed himself back, twisted his shoulders in accordance with the hand breaking his neck, so when the yank came his teeth were already buried into the other's neck, cutting through the skin and muscle and cloth, his right hand buried up to the wrist in liver and hot blood. Kakashi's jaw jerked and tightened in pain, the incisors nearly coming in full circle, the knife going in deeper. His neck hurt but didn't break.

_/C'mon _die_…__just die and get it over with. We can't take you anymore. Just die./_

Sand ripped him away in a blizzard, biting at his skin like many tiny harpies, invading his ears and nose, throwing away him on his back.

He was past pain now. Kakashi's left eye winced open, saw something pale with black smudges and red hair and then a pressure just below his left knee and heard the bone snap very clear. He realized later that he had screamed.

It did not occur to him until much, much later, that Gaara was in the habit of fighting and killing with the sand--he disliked using his hands. He never touched anyone, if he could help it.

* * *

_:You would kill me for gold:_

Kakashi struggled for consciousness, light, an edge, something he could orient himself by. He…he had been…

_:Not glory. Not honor. Not even arrogance.:_

He'd been hit. Hard. There'd been a fight. He didn't feel dead. Obito was…

_:Silence.:  
:Shadow walker. Not night nor day.:_

Obito was dead. Ino. Lee. Sasuke. The village was gone and he was cold. Why couldn't he wake up? What was that noise? _Was_ he dead?

_:Would you kill me for gold: _

:Answer:

It was like being hit by a sledgehammer. Kakashi's eyes received the impulse to jar open and twitched all the way to his neck. His body protested immediately, grease-hot pain gouging his spine.

_/Should've killed him. I should have killed him. I should've loosed it right there and killed him./_

By degrees, his breathing came back under his control. He was probably not dead. Being dead shouldn't _twitch_ this much, didn't hurt this badly. So, logically, if he wasn't dead he was still very much in danger. The space around him felt open—he hadn't been rescued, likely.

Wincing, he opened his right eye, the natural one. Gray sky above, hemmed by damp, empty tree tops. What time was it? Where was he?

No. No, that wasn't important.

Was he alone?

His muscles didn't spasm as he leaned up onto one elbow and looked around because they were tightly gripped by his mind in full Baby Deer Mode: Slow, smooth, near invisible movements for fear of predators.

Then he allowed his muscles to lock into place—it was too late.

A decent distance away, Gaara sat on the ground, sunglasses intent on him. He looked very relaxed, at ease, as if he were waiting for something or perhaps communing with nature. Meditating on the nature of truth or the essence of beauty maybe. There was a very faint gentle smile on his lips, so faint it was hard to be certain it was there at all.

He stood up abruptly and sauntered closer, crouching at Kakashi's side well within striking distance and in his face.

Kakashi reevaluated the situation. Gaara moved stiffly, slightly self-consciously, always searching for a fight or preparing for an attack, constantly on edge. But this guy, with Gaara's body, seemed very, very relaxed—at ease with himself and thoughtlessly arrogant.

Only his reflection—bloody and beat up--stared back at him. By degrees, he relaxed himself to his back again—more comfortable that way, and it left both his hands open. His left leg was shattered. Anything below his waist was left unmoved and it still ached.

His hair was examined—rubbed between fingers and then smelled. He hadn't washed it—or himself—in a while. Against his will and with some struggle, his mouth was opened and sniffed, teeth felt and examined. Then his right hand. His pulse. His heart. His crotch—_/What the hell/_--and was felt up through his pants. His right foot. Left leg was looked at but not touched. And then, finally, the creature took off its sunglasses and pushed both his eyes open. Kakashi's left one _screamed_.

The Sharingan fed him images he couldn't understand, that his mind couldn't process, not in its state. His natural eye got blurry images that he could understand: he tried to never use both eyes at once, because it was to painful, like watching two moving screens at once of the exact same picture at very different speeds and qualities—overwhelming and incomprehensible. But then the Sharingan eye usually was.

Kakashi had—perhaps foolishly—been expecting eyes like fire. Or absolute black circles. Maybe even snake eyes.

These were yellow, vaguely reptilian, vaguely feline, and very feral. Orochimaru's, Neji's, even Kiba's eyes seemed just as unearthly—Kakashi had easily seen worse. It was the intelligence behind them, inside them, that made him flinch.

His head was in a vice—he couldn't even twitch the tendons. He felt they weren't just looking at him, they were looking _inside_ him, seeing everything and not being very impressed by anything. Searching.

Kakashi had faced Naruto in full fox form, on the eve of the Burn Out, but he hadn't really fought him. He had burn scars branded deeply into his chest the shape of claws, but the fox had never touched him. These eyes were the same as those, only in an ordinary mundane human body, which made it worse. The juxtaposition made them a bit…eerier. Frightening.

_A monster was only a human with the brakes off._

Kakashi turned his head away when he was released and the glasses replaced—the creature scratched its neck irritably. It tilted its head to one side, looking at him curiously.

His jaw exploded as an uppercut tapped him and made his skull crack a second before his ribcage began to cave in from another hit.

There wasn't even time to cough up blood. His fingers flew together instinctively, already forming the Signs before his left hand was caught and all feeling below his knuckles shrieked and faded.

He was dying. He was going to die.

_/Why did he wait? Why did he have to _wait

_/He could've done it while I was sleeping—I wouldn't have had to know! Damn it/_

Kakashi's kunai plunged into the side of its ribcage a few seconds before his head was shoved to the side and teeth pierced his neck.

The kunai darted in and out like a hummingbird, gutting along its abdomen and flying for its heart, pulling on energy his body didn't have anymore, taking it out on credit and never planning to pay it back. The mouth at his neck continued to dig; the creature straddled his stomach, shuddering when his right knee connected with its back, but ignoring him otherwise.

Blood fiery and acidic warmed and burned his hand laced with scratches and cuts—it fell on his shirt and seeped through. He was light headed from blood loss, stabbing its lungs through the back diligently since he couldn't find the strength to reach higher or find the heart and it was lying on top of him, keeping its innards from spilling out. He continued out of principle--no reason to let up, especially since he had lost.

_/This wasn't what I had in mind…exactly…/_

Quite suddenly, the pressure on his neck released. The knife was taken from his hand and, with a bloody grin, slipped into the creature's mouth like a lollipop. It cut its lips as it was pulled out—Kakashi watched instead of seeing the world go black. Once again, his mouth was forced open, demon blood flooding his throat. Every bruise, scrape, and gash screamed and writhed and then vanished crying with loss…

He winced. Something in his brain jarred, with intelligence and pain.

_Not a scratch. On Sasuke. There hadn't been a scratch, not even a burn mark, absolutely nothing yet he'd been through so much..._

_/It's not a vampire. It's not possible. It doesn't work that way, what the hell--/_

Sasuke's mind had been hurt, but there hadn't been a single scratch on him. There was more than one way…

He tried pushing the liquid out with his tongue, and then not swallowing or breathing. Then his instincts stepped in, shoved the mind out the door, and stopped fighting—humanity was great, but surviving was better. Besides, it wasn't really like he had a choice.

_/Why? What does it want? It has to want something…/_

His throat choked anyway, blood draining from the cuts he had made into its skin—he was able to feel his left fingers again, regrettably, painfully, but at the rate he was healing—if it worked the same for him as it had for Sasuke, as it did for Gaara, then the pain wouldn't last long.

Just as suddenly as it began, the creature backed off, sitting on its haunches and watching him curiously with a faint, amused smile.

_/Another fight?__ It wants another fight? Why not just kill me? It went through all that…because it could've killed me, but not_ humiliated _me. Defeated me. Well. These things have a sense of fair play? No. Probably just a very fine-tuned sense of extracting absolute humiliation. But it'll give me time./_

It watched him patiently, and Kakashi had to close his eyes when he felt burning rip along his wounds, which flared momentarily then erased. Even his left leg trembled a little with the fire--his heart beat sped up. The blood must be like some kind of drug…

Kakashi started to lever himself up to his elbows again, testing his left fingers—pain, but a very faint reaction. Not enough to do anything with it yet, but getting there.

_/Get up…c'mon, get up. Get up and kill it while there's time…I've got to kill it, before it goes after the others. And it will go after the others. I've got to./_

The handle of his kunai waved in front of his face, the bloody smile behind it bright and slightly sinister—not a trace of duplicity or guilt, the true smile of an absolute liar and murderer. The head cocked to one side, curious and patient. Kakashi's eyes flicked from the handle to the smile to the sunglasses—there was something wrong here. There was something uniquely wrong.

The thing in Gaara's body stopped to scratch at his neck and stood, pacing away, giving him his back, still holding the knife. It scratched harder. The spot on his neck started to bleed.

_/Did I have rabies and not know it? Piece of luck if I did. Kind of./_

And then it was back at his side, in his face again.

_/Reactions. More than a fight it's searching for reactions. Can it smell fear? Why? I must've done something interest…but I don't have rabies. I think. I'm sure. So what is it/_

The ground bucked and wrapped around his neck from under him. For once, Kakashi didn't fight—he'd been pushed around and tested and he was tired of it. It wanted reactions—he didn't feel like playing. So it actually made quite a bit of sense for him to lay there and glare mildly annoyed. In other circumstances, it might've worked.

Using his knife and hands, it started to rip his clothes from his body.

_/Fuck./_

* * *

Gaara didn't wake up. He usually didn't.

It wasn't so much as he said, "Yes, I no longer want control" so much as he didn't say, "No, I won't let you have it." Or if he did say the latter, then he did not put it into actions. And if he did put it into actions, then he did not push hard enough.

In any case, it was out of his hands.

* * *

A/N: I know—this didn't answer much questions, and while it wasn't _exactly_ a filler chapter, I felt the Group needed more coverage. And Shukaku. He needed more coverage. Shukaku…gradually has more of a point. 


	18. II: 910ths of the Law Is

A/N: Chapter dedicated to Kotori for holding on and always giving more of the surprises and shocks that make up life. Much thanks to Felis for being my first beta, strange, and vastly angelically reliable in times of great carnage and school work.  
To the Readers who've stayed with me this far, I don't know how you do it, and we're finally getting _plot_; yay! Plot again! Yay!

Warnings: Language. Angst. Language.

**Nine tenths of the law is…**

* * *

_Attraction _  
By gelfling  
_:Invading thoughts: _  
Demon Thoughts

* * *

Do you mind that I think I still love you?  
--_All right_, Five for Fighting

Reality is an illusion created by a lack of alcohol.  
--NF Simpson.

Love is the answer - but while you're waiting for the answer sex raises some pretty good questions."  
--Woody Allen.

* * *

Kakashi had never been raped before. Still, events had gone, more or less, as he'd expected. He was mildly annoyed and in so much pain he barely felt it--he had put himself safely beyond physical and psychological pain. He would feel the full impact later, when his mind couldn't contain it anymore.

_/If I live that long. Not impossible./_

Prudent even near death, his mind had carefully put away words like 'file', 'screwdriver', 'rusty saw', and 'bone cutter' in a locked storeroom, along with others such as 'violation', 'vomit', and 'helpless'. Everything he was capable of feeling and thinking was carefully censored before being published for him to think or feel. The issue of his immobility was never even acknowledged--it was no more significant than the tiny skin mites in his eyebrows.

Inside the cool and fragile darkness behind his eyes, his mind observed events--the shuddering on his body was slowing down.

Kakashi waited it out.

Pressure fell on his chest and shoulders--hot air gasped past his ear. Though disinterested, he realized someone was trying to simultaneously cough, choke, and curse.

Back home, in the village, he had had a neighbor who's stove pinged quite loudly late at night for no real reason, not being _exactly_ disruptive but a little like water torture. It was a constant, arrhythmic sound that got on his nerves. The sounds in his ear were rather like that. Annoying, and telling him that he was alive and it wasn't over yet.

The temperature dropped in specific areas--the man was getting off him, looking at him. He felt pressure through his headband, over the Leaf insignia. Another cough, wet-sounding and rough.

"Told you."

As one might observe a large wad of paper clogging up the plumbing to the point where water would soon be exploding everywhere, Kakashi observed his ribcage touching the man's abdomen as he breathed. Clumsily, wet fingers prodded the pulse on his neck. Kakashi noted his heartbeat was shallower than normal, slower. Of course it had been through a lot, it was only to be expected. He wasn't worried. If he died, he wouldn't have much of _anything_ to worry about (the dead never did), and if he didn't die, he'd be able to do something about it.

He lost consciousness for a while, but suddenly it felt like something warm was being poured down his throat. Something warm and thin, and even on the brink of unconsciousness, he still felt a tendril of dread grip him.

_/Ah shit…and here I thought it couldn't get any worse. Must be getting soft./_

It was days later, before he woke up. There was a woman...pottering about..._ poking..._

Kakashi grabbed her wrist before his eyes even snapped open. She gave a muffled shriek and tried to pull her arm away, and after he got his bearings he let go.

He was in a hospital. She was a nurse. It could have been the dubious hat, the overabundance of white, or the smell that cued him in, but it was mostly the speakers proclaiming: "--to Pediatrics. Doctor Wakana to Pediatrics."

Before she had a moment to recover herself, he snapped every ounce of former Anbu captain command into his voice.

"What happened to my hair?"

She didn't even question him. "Nothing sir! Still brown sir!"

He blinked, realizing someone had bandaged his left eye. Brown? Did he have brown? Then he made his body startle and relax, slipping into something less threatening. "I--I'm sorry."

"I didn't mean to startle you," he continued, forcing nearly-real remorse into his voice. "Don't know what came over me. I'm sorry." For good measure he looked away, adding it on a little thick, "That was inexcusable."

She seemed to hesitate, then gave him a nervous grin. "It's--it's all right sir. The--the drugs take people like that sometimes, sir. But you shouldn't…um…" she hesitated, looking extremely uncertain and unnerved. He couldn't look that awful, could he? "I'm--I'm Sayaka Omiro, by the way."

He smiled weakly in response, trying not to react, not to _panic_ to the fact that his face was unbandaged and open for anyone to see that felt he felt _sick_. He wanted his mask—it felt wrong without it, he hadn't felt this naked in public before even when he _had_ been naked in public; even then his face had been covered. "Pleasure to meet you. Hope I haven't been too much trouble for you all this time."

"Well…you should still be sleeping--the drugs aren't supposed to wear off for another two days and your body should still be tired to even be..." She looked uncertain again, perplexed and more than a little worried. Kakashi tensed. "I'm gonna get the--"

He grabbed her sleeve.

"Wait... Please--wait, before you go off and do that could you help me with something?" He would have noticed if the Sharingan eye was missing. It wasn't. He alive—someone _wanted_ him alive—and for the moment he had some power and mobility. He was alive at the moment, but considering what he remembered happening he might not be alive very much longer.

"I--I've got to--listen I don't know how long I've been out but…" he lowered his voice.

She came closer voluntarily. "What?"

He repeated himself.

"Oh _sure_," She replied, cheerily. "That's no problem, if you could just wait while--"

"_Now_ ma'am--I'm sorry but waiting's out of the question."

She hesitated again. "But the doctors said you shouldn't--"

Kakashi wasn't much good at looking pathetic--useless yes, non-threatening definitely, but not pathetic. He tried. It kind of worked. She looked more suspicious than unnerved now, but at least she went to grab him a wheelchair. He didn't have to fake the clumsiness, at least, and waited until they were down the hall before asking, "How did the surgery go?"

"Well sir, you were a bit touch and go for a minute, but they managed to heal the whole length without problem. I understand some of it had to be replaced artificially, but I'm afraid I don't know very much; it'd be better to ask your doctors. You should be walking in no time."

He didn't have to fake or mask the relief that came either. He sighed, "That's good."

She smiled weakly.

"You really should be still sleeping though…" she trailed off and Kakashi prayed she wouldn't figure out what he had. There had been the sensation of something being poured down his throat…he'd be angry about it later. Right now, he just wanted to piss and get something cool to drink and find somewhere safe to sleep. Then, when he felt better, he'd get angry and unhappy, but at the moment he felt absolutely _fine_; even a little relieved. He was, no matter what, still alive.

"And I am sorry about your loss sir, but it can only be expected in your line of work. My son's got a poster of you in his room--he admires you very much, sir."

Kakashi didn't answer—he even stopped counting the amount of times she'd called him 'sir', and this didn't look like a military hospital. He knew enough. Not where he was, but enough. The 'what' at least, if not the 'why' and 'how'. He let her wheel him inside the restroom, demanded she wait outside with the door unlocked, relieved himself, flushed, and left the water taps running while he slipped out the window.

His leg did feel…_lighter._

Two weeks later, the famous stunt devil Akira Tsuyumaku received a hospital bill for 2, 600, for injuries he didn't have. He hadn't panicked until he read the currency wasn't Yen.

* * *

Like a celebrated writer, Kakashi turned up at his own funeral two hours late and uninvited. The girls (and Lee and Iruka) had fussed over him all up the stairs--he caught Hinata studying him with the Byakugan, veins swelling around her eyes. She blushed.

"Alloplastic," he said simply. "And some allografts on the side. Don't ask me about it, ask a doctor. Sasuke back?"

Silence.

"Everyone still alive?"

"Yes," said Iruka.

He opened the door and fell, fully dressed, onto his bed.

He had only planned on being away a day, two days on the outside. Instead it had nearly been four weeks and Neji and Shikamaru were still out looking for him. His outstanding injuries that the hospital hadn't attended to were healing at a faster rate than normal; it normally took at least six weeks to heal a broken leg, especially to the extent his bones had been shattered. He wondered how the Sharingan worked now.

He did wonder what it meant. He knew how it happened, but he didn't know _why_. Demons never gave anything away—there was always a price in there, somewhere, and it was always too much. It was just a question of what.

Sometimes, after showering or just taking a run to test his new leg, he scratched at his neck. He was almost sure he knew what had been poured down his throat, but he couldn't figure out _why_. The mystery nagged at him almost as badly as the scar on his neck.

* * *

Kakashi knew some people had jobs that didn't risk their lives everyday—jobs where the competition wasn't so fierce that 'unemployment' was synonymous with 'funeral'. He knew there were some jobs where all you did was write and add up, moving with the world instead of outside of it, on the shadowed periphery.

He had no idea how they could _stand_ it. It sounded so…boring. He couldn't even imagine it. His sense of misdirection, of always feeling the world spinning out of control under him and falling to pieces had become so everyday he relied on it. It was when things weren't weird, weren't fatally dangerous, that he started to feel on edge.

By silent mutinous agreement of his subordinates, he wasn't allowed more than five yards away from the inn-base without escort. Since other people were running around doing the work for him, he couldn't complain too much, but he still felt…uneasy. Most of the bone in his leg had been replaced with a lightweight metal, almost all of the lower half. It felt different—lighter and heavier at the same time, and far too fragile, like a strong gust of wind would shatter it like a matchstick house.

Most of it was his imagination, of course. But still…

Admittedly, Kakashi didn't know much about the demon psyche; the real demons, the monsters of old, not the weak little closet monsters you got today. The real demons, the nine monsters…were rare. Rare, and more a force of nature than an individual creature, and he had no idea how they thought, how they felt; it made them hard to predict, to fight.

He knew about humans though. He knew about kids.

He would come back. It was a tiresome, annoying fact, but it was a fact Kakashi would gamble his whole remaining collection of _Come Come Paradise_ on. He still wasn't sure why he had been left alive, why he'd been brutalized and not killed, not locked up in some stinking cellar. He had either insulted or intrigued the monster—either way, Gaara would come back. Or something would come back, and it would probably look like Gaara.

A week passed since he returned to the inn-base, walking in on his own funeral uninvited, and nothing happened. Hinata hovered over him like a butterfly, and he found himself hanging around Iruka for the companionable silences, the impersonal friendliness, which meant by default hanging around Lee who reminded him so much of Gai in so many little ways, from the way he frowned to strange straightforward phrases that would've sounded insincere coming from anyone else, that it felt like going back in time 20 years. He liked Lee; it was impossible not to.

His visitor came, and he only gave Kakashi a brief, blank glance before trooping up the stairs. Ino frowned at the staircase while Kakashi leaned against the wall, warming his hands with a cup of tea Hinata had drugged to make him sleep more. He didn't plan on drinking it. Still, he was touched by her concern and silently congratulated the subtlety.

"What's his problem?" she asked the world in general, sounding a lot sharper and mature than the girl she had been, yo-yoing from diet to diet where the only gain she intended to make was someone else's approval.

Kakashi shrugged, but held out a hand when she attempted to follow Sasuke up the stairs.

"Let him be," he said quietly. For although he would normally encourage a little sexual innuendo on Sasuke's part, a little more social intercourse of _any _kind, something didn't smell right. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong—he would've felt better if Sasuke had come back wounded, because then he could've seen what had gone wrong. Something was wrong—horribly terribly wrong.

"He's all right," he lied with a faint smile, "He's just tired."

Sasuke stayed in his own room that night, not even coming out for dinner, but he didn't sleep. Kakashi kept watch, not entirely sure who he was watching for—Naruto, Red, or Sasuke. Someone. One of them.

He almost felt relief when the smell of blood woke him up, deep one night, long before the twitching fingers against his wrist did.

After a while, after many years doing the same job. Murder became mundane—as everyday as lice or garbage, as the bed sheet pressing into his shoulder, the pillow cupping his cheek. It never became less _important_, never became _inconsequential_, because if you thought about it that way you went insane, but it did lose its shock-factor, after the first 40 or so.

Kakashi opened his good eye less than a slit, knowing from the weight, sound, and smell that there was a body lying next to him, one that stank of blood and wasn't dead yet, still moving and twitching. He could hear the breathing—a wet sick sound. It was still alive, but badly hurt.

A trumpet heralded the announcer, the organ began playing the wedding march for the bride's entrance, and the killer's equivalent of a greeting card went off next to his face with a wet splattering sound with brittle boned acoustics.

Kakashi blinked, still hearing the sound of a throat been crushed. In his mind, something shifted, and it was as if someone had poured cold liquid over his brain, possibly the same liquid that had gone down his throat, enveloping his thoughts protectively and shutting down his emotions that would be useless at the time. Then he sat up awkwardly with a loud sigh and turned the light on, wiping his face.

"I hope this is important," he said, half sincerely annoyed and half tired. "You took your time getting back to me."

Gaara's body sat neatly in a chair before him, eyes hidden by the sunglasses in dark tatty clothes, frayed red hair brushing his shoulders. It looked weak—too pale and bony. He was losing control, and the demon possessing him was running him ragged. Kakashi found himself reviewing what he knew of exorcism, and at the same time wondering if the kid could even still _speak_ anymore. Possibly not—if the body looked this bad, then the mind inside was probably worse.

"You owe me," said the thing with Gaara's mouth. "You hunted me and I let you live. You owe me your life."

"I have a job for you. I want you to kill not only the human body, but the demon within it."

"This is the payment for your life. If you fail, I will kill you and I won't stop with this city. Your subordinates will die."

"What if I refuse?" Kakashi asked, for the look of things. It might be useless information, but it was always good to grab as much as one could. He wondered who he was talking to.

"You owe me a life-debt. You cannot refuse."

"How long do I have?" Kakashi asked next, raising one eyebrow slightly.

"Two weeks," the thing in Gaara's body said neatly, then stood up and walked over to the open window. Kakashi had _locked_ the blasted thing, and had put enough wards on it to stop a small supernatural army. A superficial part of him was annoyed, a deeper part was worried. An _extremely_ superficial half-baked part was wondering, "That's it? I've been waiting all this time and I don't even get a good-bye?"

"Can you even be killed?" Kakashi asked before the thing that looked like Gaara left.

The body stopped for a moment. It didn't answer. And then it left.

"I guess that's an 'I don't know'?" Kakashi asked no one in particular.

* * *

It started, as things often did, with a bloody row. Not 'bloody' in the sense that guts and pieces went flying everywhere and hung nastily on the walls, but 'bloody' as in a domestic war you wouldn't want to know about, not even to listen from the windows and take notes and gossip about it. Some things about people you just didn't want to know, because then you had to remember they were people_ just like you_, and realize that such terrible things did happen in real life, and not just in bad novellas and nightmares.

The night before, Sasuke hadn't called. He hadn't called for Naruto in weeks, had had his own problems that he wanted to solve on his own, and had wanted to know that he was alone in his head without having to concentrate on keeping something else out. Without keeping _someone_ else out, without always having to be mentally on guard. He wanted to be alone.

Naruto had come anyway, well dressed again and looking like a high-school kid in a green jacket and jeans that set off the blue in his eyes, smelling clean and soap-scrubbed.

"I didn't call for you," Sasuke protested, bent over maps and financial records spread out on the bed, trying to figure out who was _really_ hiring who and if anyone really knew what the hell was going on. He was kneeling on the floor, both elbows propped against the bed, trying off and on to rub the migraine out of his skull.

"I know," Naruto ran his hands down Sasuke's bare arms, grinning warmly and impishly without a hint of teeth. "I just felt like it."

_/I didn't let you put a collar on so you could just forget about it, ass hole./_

"Don't. Touch me," Sasuke had stiffened up. "Stick your damn cock in a meat grinder, if you're that needy. But don't touch me."

For a minute, Naruto came close to fighting back. It was easy to fight with Sasuke—almost reflexive, and it was hard to bite down on that habit. Besides, there was his pride to think about, his dignity; he'd held the man's life on a _fork_ and Sasuke _still_ had the nerve to talk to him like that.

_/You can bite down 'cause it's on a fork; remember it's on a fork and someday it'll be on the damn _knife_ and you'll really wish I'd taken a bite back then./_

Naruto had _allowed _the collar—had allowed it all, decided to go a little kinky and humiliating and instead of softening up a little, instead of relenting just a_ tiny_ incy wincy bit because Naruto, as far as he was concerned, had _surrendered_, Sasuke was _still_ being an asshole! Still fighting him! Fuck!

…There was just no winning with some people, there really wasn't.

It was hard habit to break, the habit of fighting for yourself, for standing up for yourself. Obedience had never been Naruto's strong point, he wasn't even used to being submissive even in _sex_ but for Sasuke he'd…he'd done…shit.

If they got started fighting, they'd _never_ around to having sex, and that's what he wanted. When he wanted something, he wanted to get it.

"It's not my cock that wants attention," Naruto laid his chin over Sasuke's shoulder, smelling his skin for the first time in what felt like forever, and then smacked the front of his crotch lightly. "I can wait. Take your time."

Surprisingly, Sasuke didn't snap something hostile back. In fact, he didn't even take too much time in making Naruto wait all that long before he got them both naked and roughly horizontal.

Later, Sasuke was too worn and washed through with adrenaline and the comforting, drowsy endorphins, to physically freeze up at the sensation of Naruto kissing his jaw possessively, running his fingers through his hair. Sasuke _thought_ he might've heard something like, "belong to me…" but the roaring of blood in his head was too loud and he was too busy regaining control over his heart anyway. The sex had been violent, and his fingernails were bloody with Naruto and Naruto's teeth were bloody from his shoulder and neck, were he'd sunk his fangs in. Only Naruto's wounds had healed in a timely manner.  
_  
/Do you know what I did today/  
:Does it matter:  
_  
Naruto had given him a half-condescending look, half-smug, before sighing and closing his eyes.

Sasuke was careful to shield his own thoughts next, burying them so far deep under so much rubble _he_ wasn't even sure he had thought them.  
_  
/I've been cleaning up after your mess. Your 'demon empire'. Your blood and bodies that you left strewn around, the families you broke without apparent reason other than _whim._ I've been cleaning that up. Me, not you. Me./ _

/You abandoned the village. You abandoned the demons. You abandoned me. And now I think I know why you want me now, why you've put up with everything I've thrown at you. Why you threw everything else away.../

/You're not in love with me. You're afraid of being alone./

Patience was not Sasuke's strong point. Forgiveness was something other people gave to people who had hurt them so that they wouldn't fight anymore; he couldn't see the _point_ of forgiveness. It wasn't something he did.

Water was still dripping from his hair when he came out of the shower, looking a bit more distant than usual. The hotel bed was still mussed and damp in places, smelling strongly of sex and sweat and Naruto had managed to pull on a pair of pants, though he hadn't managed to do much else.

"I want to know about Sakura. I want to know about the demon. About your empire, why you _left_ it. I want to know why you did it—I want to know how it _felt_ to betray your own. I want to know what it feels like to kill your own--I've always wanted to know that. If it was like killing yourself. I want to know _everything_."

Sasuke deliberately left out asking why Naruto had left the village.

Naruto paused in the effort of tugging his shirt back on, the material rubbing uncomfortably against his skin.

"Ummmm…" he eyed Sasuke through his messed bangs, raising one eyebrow. "Nnnnn-no. No, I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"Because…that's really none of your business? And it's kind of late now? As you're already fucking me, and so on? And you should've asked me earlier, if you really cared? So…no."

Naruto coughed/laughed under his breath, shaking his head slightly before grinning up at Sasuke through his bangs. He brushed him off gently, since he was in a good mood and Sasuke was being…_him_ again. So adorably self-sacrificing and ineptly noble. It was just _cute_. "No, I don't think so."

"You're certain?"

Naruto looked at him as if he'd gone insane, and part of Naruto wondered if he had. "Yeeeah. Yeah, I am."

Sasuke nodded. "About the fucking. I'm stopping it. I also want you to go. Away. For good, this time."

"Okay, that's just being _childish_," Naruto spat the word, wringing the kinks out of his wrist. "You're pissed, sure, but—"

"I was planning to do it anyway. I just wanted to pump what information out of you that I could." Sasuke looked at the blank, confused look on Naruto's face, and remembered all the times he'd seen that same expression on Naruto's face whenever he or Sakura tried to explain the shaper, more academic elements of combat to him. Sasuke sighed.

"I didn't call for you last night because I wasn't interested. I'm not anymore—it's not interesting anymore."

"You're saying I'm lousy in bed?" Naruto looked half-amused, half-offended, and overall baffled.

"I'm saying your lousy all around," Sasuke clarified. "And now I want you gone."

From there, it had gone critical.

"I have no interest in killing you," Sasuke explained calmly, as if it were all self-obvious and Naruto was simply too dense to comprehend it. "I don't care what happens to you either. But you are a distraction I want removed."

Sasuke stood up and wiped his hands on his pants and began reloading his pockets by the window's table. Naruto followed at his heels, still shirtless and unbalanced with a growing sense of panic.

"You can't seriously think…I'd _let_ you do this! This is _stupid_--I can't _die_ Sasuke. You're stuck with me!"

He meant to follow that up with something sharp and witty, like how he planned to be the thorn in his side until Sasuke took his own life, how he'd wrap Sasuke's brother's gonads and bloody skull in a fruit basket present, and how he would, invariably, be the best monster a boy ever had. Which Naruto _would_ have said, to be sure, if Sasuke's hand hadn't penetrated his stomach, lifted him over one shoulder and flung him out the window without so much as a goodbye.

Naruto hit the opposing building at a near horizontal throw—the full body feeling of acupuncture and cheese grater betrayed how much ferocious energy Sasuke had fueled into the shot. Naruto hit the floor like a cat, wincing and clutching his stomach. He was grinning through. He was a better liar than Sasuke—so much better. He _knew_ when he was lying.

Naruto stood, the feral half-snarl smirk burning steadily and looked up.

The window was empty though, except for the broken glass.

Naruto blinked, then scoffed. If that was the way Sasuke wanted to play it, then fine—they'd play it like that. That was just fine. For now.

* * *

There were a million things Sasuke could have done, after that. Or, it felt to him like there was a million things he could have done, or should have been doing, but he had no idea what they were. A part of him wanted to sit back and laugh darkly, maniacally, and another part wanted to go after Naruto and cut him into little bits until he couldn't come back anymore and then _burn_ the bits and then bury them in five different graves, and another, deeper, quieter part of him simply wanted to sit down with his head in his hands and cry.

Which didn't make sense, because Sasuke didn't cry anymore. He hadn't cried in a long time. He didn't like doing it—not because he was worried that people would think it was weak of him to do, for a boy to cry, but for deeper, more personal reasons than that. He didn't cry. And he, _especially_, had no reason to cry _now_—no reason at all! It was…stupid. It was very, very stupid.

He did, however, attack the sink under the hotel's bathroom, found some cleaner and multicolored sponges that smelled a bit funny and looked more alive than anything living under a sink for years should be, and ran them both all over the bathroom and shower until he was tired and the place _gleamed._

It was a habit—an old habit he had. He wasn't exactly sure where he learned it, but when he lived in Konohakagure in his small, empty apartment and he was really frustrated and didn't feel like training (which was strange, rare, but it happened) he went to war against all the germs in his kitchen and bathroom. Shikamaru had only said he would make someone the perfect wife someday. He'd only said it _once_ before he learned not to say it again; it was weeks before the swelling went down over his eye. Sasuke didn't like being sloppy or living messily, but most of the time he didn't have much interest in domestic activities either. When the fancy did hit him, like many things did when Sasuke was concerned, it hit_ hard._

It was nearly half an hour after everything had exploded in his face and the window had broken that he realized Naruto had left his red jacket thrown over the small square table that wobbled. Sasuke stared at it, then reached out slowly, half-expecting it to burn his hand or bite him, and pushed it aside gently.

There was a box underneath it.

Sasuke had gotten used to things not always making immediate sense. The leather jacket _did_ have inside and outside pockets, but only for things the size of a thick wallet. The box sitting on his table like a frog was about the size of a shoebox, made out of a heavy, dark wood.

Sasuke's first thought was that it was a bomb, intentionally left there to kill him. The second thought was that it had been extremely poorly hidden, so it had probably been an accident. There was a small metal lock in the front—he fooled around with it until it broke, and opened Pandora's gift.

It only took him a few seconds to reach a conclusion.

"You_ fucking_ son a bitch. You goddamned_ bastard_ I knew I should've…"

Sasuke's face was dark with all the unspoken thoughts he couldn't find the words to express, and he considered burning the whole damn thing and fuck the consequences. He had some nerve. He had some _nerve_ carrying this around that hypocritical cowardly little _shit…_

Inside the box, was the headband Naruto had stolen from Sasuke, carrying the emblem of the Konoha Leafs, of the old burned down village and all of the aspirations and hopes it had embodied. He _had_ thought Naruto had destroyed the thing, or lost it; Kakashi-sensei had given him a new one a while ago, one without scratches or marks on it. He had thought that—he had _wanted_ to think that because it answered everything so _neatly_, it was the sort of thing the villain, the traitor was _supposed_ to do.

Traitors didn't _deserve_ mercy. They didn't deserve anything but a fast painful and all around_ permanent_ death. Sasuke had no patience for traitors, for people who didn't know which side of the fence they were on, people who couldn't make up their _minds_. The world didn't have _time_ for indecision; the time and effort people wasted wondering whom they wanted to be fighting for was time other people who_ knew_ spent dying. He didn't have any patience for people like that at all.

Sasuke would've preferred that Naruto had destroyed it, because that was the sort of thing traitors were supposed to do. One could feel good about hating a villain with no second thoughts, no remorse, no matter who's face he wore.

Underneath Sasuke's old headband was another one, much older and beat up. He recognized the crosshatched scratches and dents—he'd stared at them for years while they were growing up. It was Naruto's.

Underneath that were photos. And a piece of old string, a couple of pebbles and a bell.

The box hit the far wall with a clang, its contents spilling out and tumbling across the floor, one hinge shattered.

Sasuke started to storm out, then changed his mind abruptly and did an about-face, snatching up the red jacket and a few other choice items before heading off to the bathroom. A fist pounded against the front door—the hotel manager, wanting to know why his window was shattered and what was being thrown against the walls and when the door slammed open and when he looked through his oval glasses at the one who had opened it, he thought he was looking at a demon. The eyes were red. The eyes were glowing _red._

A hand grabbed his face before he could yell or run, and all he saw were those glowing red eyes, swirling around and around like a washing machine, almost hypnotically. Swirling and swirling, dragging him down…

When Sasuke let go, the man stumbled back, blinked awkwardly once or twice, then stepped into the room and looked around quizzically. He didn't look once at Sasuke—he frowned at the broken window, and to him it seemed that the window _wasn't_ broken, that it was still whole and that the room was, in fact, empty and completely in order. He continued to glance around, still puzzled, but left locking the door behind him.

Sasuke returned to the bathroom, the tub drenched with gasoline, matches in his left pocket, and lovely bottle of hydrochloric acid sitting on the sink's counter. He wasn't sure if fire would hurt the jacket (and its host) or not, but he was pretty certain the acid would have _some _effect and even if it didn't he had enough iron to make up for it. He had more than enough, and if it wasn't enough, he'd get more until it _was_. He was through playing games—he was through.

He picked up the bottle, and prepared to pour it down. The jacket lay in the tub helplessly. A part of him knew how silly this must've looked to an outsider, but at the moment he was too angry to care. All that mattered was that he got his revenge. How he got it, and at what price, were merely frippery.

The minutes ticked by.

Would Naruto scream? Would he be able to feel it, at this distance? Would he die? Would he fall down, frothing at the mouth and skin burning from nothing he could touch and no one else could see? Could he die? Sasuke had the time and means to find out…

He had the means to find out. He had the _perfect_ means to find out.

Sasuke didn't believe in luck. He didn't believe in a lot of things: big things like God and Heaven and everyday things like a Model Citizen or a Better Life. He didn't believe in things like that. He didn't believe in dreams. He didn't believe in coincidences, or luck, or good fortune. He just didn't, and although he'd seen plenty of things he couldn't explain or didn't understand, he never saw any reason to believe in anything like that. Cynicism had always been good enough for him. Cynicism always _worked._

Cynicism told him that it had been awfully _convenient_ for the jacket to be left behind. Naruto was defenseless without it, pretty much. Naruto was weak and defenseless…and the perfect opportunity to try and kill him and most likely _succeed_ had just been dropped in his lap. Very conveniently. Almost _suspiciously_ conveniently.

Sasuke put the bottle back on the sink, unopened and unpoured. He leaned against the wall, arms over his chest and one foot crossed over the other, and thought.

Then he went back, and picked up the box and its contents.

When he touched them, his chest felt cold—stiff. Dead.

It was hours later before anything made sense to him. He threw up once, in that time. He didn't eat until late in the afternoon, when he remembered he hadn't eaten anything that day. He didn't leave the room. At the end, he'd made his decision.

Naruto came to visit him again, that night. It'd be the last time.

* * *

Every new beginning comes from another beginning's end. Many beginnings start with a death. It's a circle. Life is a very big, wobbly, circle.

Naruto was feeling incredibly wobbly where he was, feeling the world fall in circles and spirals around him, too drunk to stand on his own feet without falling or tipping, too drunk in fact to even dance on tables singing lewd songs about Lira the One-Legged Whore. He was too drunk, in fact, to even throw _up_, although he thought it might be possible to throw down, if he cared to think about it. He was not, unfortunately, drunk enough to forget.

The bartender had been watching him for some time, from early that evening when Naruto had first come in with the usual after-work crowd and ordered the strongest thing he had in stock, over-paid in obscene amounts, and had steadily drank himself to…well, the bartender had planned to stop him several hours earlier, but something invasively sharp and bloody-red in his mind had pressured him continuing. He was more than a little worried—he didn't want a death on his hands, not at this point in his life. He had a family to think about, a retirement to look forward to, and a life ahead of him.

Naruto tried not to think about it. He tried not to feel.

If he'd known what would've happened, he would've let him keep the damn thing. Without question. Let Sasuke be the one to next the move, should've waited, should've bided his time and reacted to whatever potential mistake Sasuke threw instead of jumping into the fray and into the fire like a damn idiot…

He should've done a million things. Naruto took another drink, his throat numb and eyes boiled and aching and demanded the next drink on no uncertain terms.

* * *

"You enjoy killing." Sasuke hadn't been looking at him when he came in, before Naruto would run out to the bar seeking temporary solace, relief. The room wasdark without lamps or candles, the windows shut. The air smelled stiff, unmoved. Sasuke kept his eyes down, non-confrontational.

That should've been his first warning—Sasuke looked defeated. Sasuke was always, _always_ more dangerous, more unpredictable, when he felt defeated than any other time. He should've known that—he'd seen him broken before, wounded and hurt before, and instead of learning that that was the time when it was good to leave Sasuke _alone_ because he was in a throat-cutting fire-setting mood, Naruto had moved in. He should've known. He should've known.

"And you don't?" Naruto sneered. " I've seen your eyes—you've got great eyes, Sasuke. They betray you every time."

Instead, he'd had the goddamn _arrogance_ to think that it'd been _him_ who had broken Sasuke…and he'd honestly, foolishly thought he'd be able to collect him back together and tie a leash around his soul, like he had wanted to for years. To own him. After breaking him. He'd really thought he could…if he just held on a few months longer Sasuke would be his and…

"No, you're not getting it," Sasuke seemed more tired than angry. "I kill, but I don't enjoy it. I don't hate it. You betrayed us. You left. You're no longer a threat and I don't have the patience to deal with you. I want you gone."

"Yeah, yeah," Naruto said, leaning his head in his hand casually with a wry smile. "That's what you said before, and lookie-lookie I'm back again: so what? You're repeating yourself Sasuke, not good at _all_ for—"

The chair fell over as Sasuke stood, eyes still not on _him_, but on the floor.

"Fuck Naruto what don't you _get_! I don't _care_! You fucked up! You fucked up _big_ and I want you_ gone_!"

Naruto only raised his eyebrows and felt the rest of his face freeze.

He'd seen Sasuke angry before; furious even. Anger didn't scare him, but it wasn't anger leaking out of Sasuke's face. He couldn't move. He was frozen—it was Sasuke's voice, and he couldn't even twitch. He'd been an animal living with humans for years, since he was a young pup who didn't even _know_ he could be a fox, and there was still something in him that wanted to slow down when a certain, special voice said _heel_. And Sasuke's voice had always worked magic, even on Gaara, who ate his own leash and strangled people with it.

Sasuke inhaled deeply, and then looked in straight in the eyes, his shoulders sloped and defeated. He continued softly, breathing awkwardly.

"…I don't want to kill you. I don't want to _fuck_ you either, it _hurts_ to have you here. …It hurts. I'm not masochistic and if you're suicidal then go_ look_ for someone else to do it, because I won't."

Naruto, in one of the few times in his life, was speechless. Sasuke said nothing, letting the silence hang, staring at him, holding his eyes, and there was nowhere to run and no way to fight. There wasn't a thing he could do.

_/…no. No. This isn't right, I can't--/_

"I don't hate you—I've tried. I've tried, I did, I killed you, and now it's old. I'm bored."

_/Bored? He's_** bored**_? I'm the one getting beat up and he's the one who's_** bored**_? Fuck that/_

Naruto snarled inwardly while his face contorted, pissed and jaded and refusing to be rejected that damn _easily_, and made an invisible grab for Sasuke's mind, ripping the metaphorical cupboards open and filing cabinets and learning everything Sasuke honestly felt and thought at that moment, because Sasuke wasn't even trying to stop him. He knew what Naruto was doing--dark eyes winced once at the violence, at the pain that they_ both_ knew would last for days before vanishing, then springing back unexpectedly at inconvenient times, but he didn't fight, didn't try to stop him.

He didn't care.

_/If you were someone else, I could hate you. We would both be satisfied then./ _

/It hurts. You're hurting me. I respected you./

/I gave up on you. There's nothing left to say./

/You can beat a dead horse but you'll always be the one losing in the end. No more. No more./

/I don't care. It doesn't matter./

Again, Naruto felt the world was slipping out from under him. This wasn't right—this hadn't been in the cards. Sasuke had found the box. No. The fox skin had _given_ him the box, for him to see. For him to know. His own flesh and blood had _given_ his enemy and sexual prey his Achilles heel, his Pandora's gift, and he didn't have a thing to say to him. Not at thing. Not a single…  
_  
/I don't care anymore. Not about the why's. Not even about the 'how's. It doesn't matter anymore./ _

/You did what you did. What's been done is done. It still doesn't make sense, any of it, but I can't hate you anymore. I tried. I really did. I did try, but I can't keep you anymore. It hurts./

/I trusted you. I liked_ you. You died. I killed you./ _

/I don't want to hurt you anymore, and I'm tired of you hurting me. I'll never be able to bring the old feeling back…back when we were friends and we…/

/…Never. Not even if I wanted to. It's cut too deep. You hurt me. Nothing will change that./

/Go away. You don't belong here. Go away./

To his humiliation, Naruto found he was on the verge of begging forgiveness, and barely stopped himself from doing it. That wasn't the way—damn it he _still_ had his pride! That wasn't the way—Sasuke was just being stupid, emotional. It wasn't anything he couldn't talk him out of—nothing he couldn't fix he was _Naruto_ for fuck's sake; there wasn't _anything_ he couldn't do. He thought about grinning, grappled for a way to brush it all off him, leave him free of the responsibility _somehow_, and couldn't find a single outlet. He was going insane—it was the only way he could explain his last words, lightly said with just the right _touch_ of demonic pleasure and sadism to really give them that _tingle_.

"I loved you once."

"It doesn't matter," Sasuke stated.

Naruto's breath caught in his throat, a choking wad of ice. That was supposed to be his trump card—made all the sharper by the fact that it was true and they _both_ knew it was true, and Sasuke didn't…care. Sasuke didn't care.

_/…That's not fair. You can't_ do_ that, that's not fair! You can't—you're not _supposed_ to be able to…you can't do that. That's not fair./_

Apathy _kills._

Well, what could he say to that? What was there to say at all? He couldn't just leave without a fight—he didn't have to leave at _all_, Sasuke couldn't force him out, he was _still_ stronger than him, but…what was there to say? What was there to do? What was there to fix, or break? He'd started this whole thing with a goal in mind, but if Sasuke wasn't going to cooperate even the _least_ bit, then things were going to get a lot more complicated very, very quickly. They might even get so complicated they stopped dead completely. Naruto struck out blindly.

"…Didn't know you _could_ get bored of hating someone. You've made an art out of it, Sasuke…"

Sasuke shook his head, "I'm going to kill my brother because that'll change something."

"What?"

"I'll _feel_ better," Sasuke snapped testily, some life flaring in him at last and Naruto almost sagged with relief. There was a chance; there was still a chance, fighting had always nearly been like sex to them, and if he could get that then he might be still able to make it all _work. _

"That'll change. I killed you, and nothing changed. I fucked you, you fucked me, and nothing _changed_. Nothing got _fixed_; the land's still hurt, people are still dead, you can't replace _anything_ you took--" Sasuke stopped abruptly. He pulled himself back under his shaky control.

"…You left. I don't know what you want from me. You don't belong here anymore. And it hurts to look at you…"

It was easy to forget Sasuke was human; he didn't have too many strange habits or kinks, things that marked him as an individual. He slid easily into the anonymous status of a faceless almost androgynous sex-object or hired-killer; efficient, quiet, and harsh. It was hard to remember he _got_ tired, or could cry.

But he could. He tried not to, but he could, and sometimes he did.

He could feel lonely, and love, and want, and it could make him cry. Not often, but enough to anchor him, to pull him down, enough to remind himself that he was a real person, and that he was alive here and now and one day he would die.

Ages ago, he had fallen in love, and as reserved people often do, he fell _hard_. He fell hard and he never fell back _out_ of it, never stopped being in love.

He knew it. He knew it had happened, and had known he was unable to change it; it was out of his hands.

It wouldn't hurt so badly, if he didn't. It wouldn't hurt to see, to hear him and touch him, if he didn't. He still did—still loved the memory inside his head. But this was too much. This was asking far too much of him, and he couldn't do it anymore and he didn't want to try either.

_/Go away./_

"My skin," Naruto asked.

Sasuke shook his head, "Stays with me."

"You could kill me too easily with that thing. It's too easy for me to die without it."

"Does that matter to you?" Sasuke hadn't been sarcastic or joking. He'd meant it.

Naruto hadn't answered.

"Do you care if you die?"

* * *

So he found himself in another bar. Another strange bar with a strange name involving a color and an animal doing something unusual between them. He was getting sick of bars. Pea soup green nauseas _sick_ of them. Sick of not having a place to go to, of not having…

Sick of stale salted _peanuts_, and the infant dried mackerel they served along the coast. Sick of the little dried fish that tasted all right after the first five bowls, and then merely sickening after that. Dried fish, dried shrimp…dried ear and fingers in the darker allies, babes cut fresh from the womb, still-born pups boiled in something that smelled like sugar…salted and spiced and served warm in broth…

_Hey hey! Your turn to treat me today! _

/Oh shut up. I didn't come this far to…/

/I definitely_ didn't come this far to do what I'm doing. Definitely. If I could just remember about what I _did_ come this far to do, I could set up all right. Maybe even get real sleep for once./ _

/Fuck it./

Do you care if you're alive?

He wanted to live—he did. Dying meant he lost, was defeated; he didn't want to admit he had lost, he wanted to be alive. He just didn't care about living anymore. It wasn't fun. And he'd forgotten the point.

Naruto pulled on his bottom lip thoughtfully while stirring the nuts around with one finger.

"You doing all right there?"

"Hm?" he looked up, momentarily startled.

"Oh," Naruto said. "Yeah. Hey, can I ask you something? Where're you going after this?"

The man's eyebrows raised, but not too high. Guys were always funny this early in the morning and a little worse for drink; it wouldn't be the first time. Besides, the blonde hadn't been drinking like there was no tomorrow—he'd been drinking hard enough to attempt it wouldn't be. It was amazing he was still speaking; there was only a slight slur in his words, the uncontrolled high-note in his voice betraying how young he really was.

"Home, friend. To my wife."

"Ah," Naruto nodded agreeably. "You love her?"

"She's a good woman—three years happily married. The other twenty-seven haven't been too bad either, mind," the bar man polished the counter a bit, for the look of things, while pondering how to communicate that he needed his customer to leave so he could close and go home. It wasn't late at night anymore—it was so late at night it was early in the morning, and he was tired and ready to rest. He respected a man's wish to get away from the world, but if the blonde hadn't been able to knock himself asleep or dead by this time he could probably keeping going a while longer…but where was he_ putting_ it all?  
_  
/Kids these days…crazy./_

"Lady troubles?"

"Mmm. Yeah. You know you think…" Naruto trailed off, his finger still stuck in the bowl of salted nuts, his hand hanging off the edge. "I suppose I was something of a bastard."

The man nodded. He'd heard that understatement about once a week, usually.

"I just didn't think it'd be this_ important_. I mean, it's not like…I guess I never thought I'd _care_. You know. About what they thought. I knew they'd be angry, but I didn't think it'd _matter_. To me. Hey? If you didn't go home tonight…no, if you _died_, would you care?"

The bartender stilled. He'd noted the scar running across the blonde's throat in the first few hours, but by that time it had been a bit too late to tell him to leave; he'd seen deeper scars, but never in so vulnerable a place. His crowd wasn't all that savory, but it was one thing to chat with thieves about sports and later break up the fights over who had the better team with the old stout friendly stick of wood he kept under the counter, it was another thing entirely to talk to killers about his family.

Naruto flapped his hand unsteadily, weaving gently from side to side.

"Like, I know your _wife_ would care, and any kids—if you have kids," he added conscientiously. "But _you_. Would _you_ care? No one wants to die, I mean _yeah_ of course, but would you. Care?"

The man's lower lip jutted out uncomfortably.

"Well…yes, I would. Of course," he added philosophically, "everyone dies, but if you happen to be like me it doesn't end here. Something keeps me going, keeps me moving—I live on."

"After you die?"

"Yes sir."

"_Why_?" Naruto's face screwed and crumpled painfully, his voice a high-pitched almost hysterical pleading; he sounded like he was about to scream. "…I mean, life's…I couldn't _stand_ that. I can't even keep _this_ life straight, I'd go crazy if I had to do it _twice_."

"Well…some people find it comforting. Each to their own, whatever you like best." The man inhaled deeply, because he would have to bring this up sooner or later and if he didn't bring it up now his legs were going to give way under him and he wouldn't be able to pick himself up afterwards. "And speaking of owe, I'm going to be closing soon, and you owe me for your drinks."

Naruto stared glassily at the mole on the man's right eyebrow.

He stuck out his hand, "Naruto Uzumaki, pleasure to meet you. I. I ruled three countries once." He shook the man's hand, and then wiped his palm on his pants. "Not for very _long_, but I did."

"So you can pay?"

"Hm? Oh. Oh yeah, I can pay," he shook his hand dismissively. "That's not a problem. The problem. The problem is. The problem. The problem is that, um…"

His mind went, blessedly, blank. "I don't know."

"Well then sir, I'm going to have to ask you to pay so I can close up. Gotta go home, you know."

"Mmm…"

"That means you have to leave," the man hinted again. "It's over. Time to go now."

"Mmm… You know? You're right. You're absolutely right. I mean, what do I…" Naruto shrugged, closing his eyes and wincing. "I'll tell you what. How much do I owe you?"

The man told him. Naruto nodded amicably.

"Okay. Good. Now, tell me, is your life worth that?"

Naruto grinned at him surprisingly lucidly, with only his lips and his eyes, not an inch of teeth showing. "How much is your life _worth_? When is too much…done?"

"Listen," the bartender started to say, getting angry, "I don't care what happened with your girls…" his voice died slowly—Naruto was looking at him musingly, light blue eyes fading out in the smoky light swiftly, pixels darkening and pupil slitting. He wasn't smiling anymore. In fact, he wasn't even human anymore.

The man took a slow step to his right, careful not to make any sudden movements. Cold, slightly drunk vulpine eyes watched him, completely unafraid or anxious. It wasn't like being watched by a thug, or a wolf—you could see the hunger in them, the desire. This was like being watched by a cat with too much milk in him, slow, uncaring, and suffering from painful constipation and ready to take it out on _anyone. _

"A word of advice, friend."

Crimson black eyes held him in their teeth carefully, not biting down, and the throbbing sharp pain he'd been having in the back of his skull throbbed suddenly clear and incisive. It felt like he was having a heart attack in his head, like he was having a stroke or aneurysm…

Naruto smiled grimly, without humor or mirth or even sadistic arrogant pleasure, and the bartender knew that he was exactly right.

"Never annoy a monster with a personal crisis."

Naruto closed his hand, dragging his fingers lightly over the counter and leaving grooves in the wood. It was an effortless gesture, a bit meaningless, and thoughtless. The bartender held his breath carefully—his son was a sulking sixteen, and he wanted to live to see him grow out of it. His daughter was only seven. There was a monster brooding at his counter. Time froze gently on his skin, as his senses for several seconds became chiseled and precise, super-aware in fear until he could feel every pang in his spine and all the aches in his legs and hands from old age.

Bartending was not exactly the dangerous job people thought it to be—sure, sometimes there were fights, and sometimes there were weapons, but he'd never had anyone _die_ under his watch though a couple had been sent to the clinic from glass cuts and missing teeth, but he'd never seen his job as _really_ dangerous. He'd come to recognize danger, and learn how to keep it at bay, how to soothe and how to listen.

"What can I get you?"

Naruto gave a cold, hard look. "What do you use," he stated clearly, the slur temporarily gone from his words as his body metabolized the alcohol at an unholy rate. "For cleaning drains?"

* * *

It was half an hour later.

By that time, the most coherent thought in the other man's mind was, "Where is he _putting_ it all? Even demons have to pee, don't they?"

Whether or not he had to use the bathroom was a minor concern to Naruto—he didn't look remotely poisoned, but he did start to slur and sink into the stool faster now than he had with just normal alcohol. His breath smelled disgusting and vaguely lemony fresh and he'd _hate_ the taste on his tongue later, but, for the moment, that was the least of his concerns.

"I'm. I'm _not_ having a good day. Fuck it? I nearly started. But you damn well. Keep it flowing, right? I'm _not_. I'm not…" his voice trailed off, and he seemed to hunch in on himself, like a child.

"I'm _not_," he repeated in a small voice, speaking to no one present. "I'm."

There was a tap in front of him. He stared at the drink. He drank the drink.

"I'm. Okay, so just because _everything's_ my fault, everything's suddenly _my_ fault! The hell? You know? It's just not like…fuck it all, it's not _my_ fault I was better than they were!"

He slammed a fist into the counter, leaving a crater that went straight into the cabinets underneath it, knocking a few bottles down gently on accident. The broken ends of the wood caught drops of blood of his hand as it came back up, scratches that healed almost instantly. "It…"

There was a tap in front of him. He stared at the drink. He drank the drink.

"If everything. If everything had just gone to stupid plan, they wouldn't've known! Dint want them to… Everyone would've died, and they wouldn't've known, and it'd've been fine. Would've. But then _she_…"

He curled in deeper into himself, drowning in self-pity and enough alcohol to kill a small army pleasantly. He sniffed, and took another drink.

"…and stupid _moron_ had to get all _territorial_ and you he'd _never_ use that room. You know? He wouldn't even let me decorate it—not even a little poster of. Of. Of naked girls. Or corpses…I dunno what he likes. He's insane. Fuck it. Fuck him. Fuck all of them. Fuck it all."

There was a tap in front of him. He stared at the drink. He drank the drink.

"Yanno…yanno…you know…"

"Yanno I'd. I've. Got halfa mind to go an' kill 'em all. Fuck it. Fuck them. An' that bastard…woulda worked. Would've. If he hadn't…_it was all his fault_! It was all his fault too and he's got the fucking _nerve_ to tell _me_ that he…he…"

"You know…"

"I think he might've damn loved me. I think. But. That bastard. Wouldn't know it if it blew his ass up. Wouldn't. Idiot. He doesn't understand. First thing. Hate him. Should've let him die. Should've. Should've let the lot of them…"

There was a tap in front of him. Naruto didn't waste time looking at it, just downed it in a gulp that he wound up choking on. There was a faint of hint of antiseptic on his breath. The bartender, by this point, had lost all thread of the conversation and simply followed for lack of something better to do.

"You know I. I. I gave. So much… So much it hurt. So much I wanted…wanted to take everything back. Anything. Wanted to give up, just lay down. Lay down and never get up. Ever. I wanted to. I never did though. I never did. I never did because…"

"Because I thought they'd beat me. They won…once. The first time. Or that. That _something_ would happen. I. I don't know. I don't. I don't know. Not anymore. I gave so…so fucking much…"

"I don't remember why anymore."

"I don't remember why I'm _alive_ anymore."

"I don't remember why I cared…"

Naruto whispered to himself softly, feeling the words and slush trickle around in his mouth. His breathing slowed, almost stopping, his eyes closed, and Naruto's breathing stopped, all at once. The fire went out of him visibly, a candle dying in a short sudden uninteresting dark death.

The bartender, he was surprised to find, was trembling gently, so very gently and thoroughly all through his body that he felt still, all over. He felt his own breathing slow, then jumped visibly when Naruto re-animated again with a drunken chopped confession.

"I remembered I loved him. I remembered he was important. I remembered _they_ were important, to let them go, to let them get away so they could warn the village, to think…to think _other_ things so she wouldn't know but I think. I think."

Naruto toyed with the shot glass, grabbing the real one on the fourth try. "…I think maybe he was right. Hate it. When he's right. Hate it. It's always his fault. Even when it isn't. Always. He's my…"

"He was my _friend_."

"He…he _cared_. He cared."

"I fucked up. I fucked up and I don't know anymore. I fucked me up too. Fucked up good. Can't see. Can't see a way out. Not any…not anymore. I think. I think. I think giving up. Giving up might've been the key. Might've been the key all along. If I had just…early on…"

"I've never told anyone this. But the truth is…I wanted to do it. I just didn't want it to last. I wanted them to. I hated them. I resented them. I wanted them to know, to _fear_ me, for them to know what I was and what they turned their backs on, but I never…"

"I wanted to kill them. I just didn't want them dead."

The shot glass fell over, and gently rolled off the counter, hitting the floor with a soft tinkle of broken glass in an empty room that is never meant to be quiet. The bartender replaced the glass, filling it, and didn't say a thing when Naruto ignored it.

"…None of this is making sense, is it? Nah. Didn't think so."

He was silent, for a long while.

"I think. He was right. This kid I used to know. That if you cared about something…you couldn't just…couldn't just protect it. Couldn't just. You had to let it protect you. Had to put your…faith, and heart in its hands, and hope it wouldn't rip. Hope it wouldn't hurt you. Drop you. Trust it. If you loved it. I…"

"This kid. This kid I used to know. I was him. I used to be this kid I knew."

"Damn it. I miss the bastard."

"I…"

Naruto went silent again.

"Fuck it. Life's a bitch. Life's a bitch and then you marry one. Or you fuck one, or you kill one, or," Naruto shrugged. "Life's a bitch. And there's no divorce. None that work, anyway…"

For a few seconds, the universe held its breath. Then the future decided itself.

Both gnarled tanned hands hit the counter simultaneously, flipping over the shot glass in the air and igniting the fluid (whatever it was) inside in the same movement, a brief light in the darkness that came and went and left, quickly and not at all.

"And you know, you know, I'm _not_ putting up with it anymore! Fuck this! Fuck this shit! I want what's mine! I want what I won! Damn it all! I won it fair and square and I wanna see _any_ bastard try and take it from me! I'll kill them or I'll kill me but god_damn it all_ if I let them have it! Fuck that! _I'm mine_!"

Naruto shoved himself off the stool, storming out towards the door.

The bartender watched him attentively with awe, under the impression that he was seeing something that would be story to tell to his grandchildren. He'd heard of the evil spirits, the changelings that could look like perfectly normal people, until they ripped your throat out with their teeth, but he'd never seen one, much less an intelligent one with a personal crisis.

After a while, he stored the dirty glasses to be washed the next morning and put the liquor away, pocketed the keys and on his way out picked Naruto up from under his arms and dragged him out the door asleep.

* * *

**…possession. **

A/N: Okay, if you've read this far, congratulations! For you have read a whole lot!  
Also, the reason this took so long to update was that I had to redesign the whole of the ending of the fic, because the original ending _sucked_ really bad, so I had to rewire the plot and get rid of the old text and write new text and make sure it would all _work_ and _now_…Now I think we're back on a roll. Yay!


	19. II: Love me, Need me

**Attraction**  
by gelfling  
Summary: In which lost animals are found, walking around occurs, and a fight starts. Unbetaed.

***  
If you hold a bird gently, the bird will stay. If you hold it too hard, it's eyes'll bug out. And then the pet shop owner won't let you hold the mice and animals anymore.  
--Rose (Betty White), _The Golden Girls_

***  
The ocean bay was a cold blue with oily iridescent highlights, the run-off from early spring's heavy rains and winds.

It was desolate enough on the waterfront that he didn't have to hide (since there was no one to hide from), but Kakashi lurked in the shadows of the harbor's warehouses out of habit. Bits of styrofoam, plastic bags, and other garbage floated serenely on the water.

Times had changed since the fires in autumn, but it wasn't exactly more or less dangerous to be identified as a shinobi. The hubris and debris of monsters and demons that Naruto had collected in the continent's center had terrorized and driven people to the borders or foreign lands, but the monster population itself hadn't spread. Kakashi guessed the beasts were too busy tearing each other apart to start on the easier prey, and hoped he was right.

It was still profitable business, ninja espionage and assassination, but people watched him longer, closer, when he went outside. It was unfriendly, but not hostile, and was the best he had hoped for. People continued to pay (often reluctantly), and that was all that really mattered.

People stared at what was left of Team Nine too, but they blended in better than he felt like doing. Didn't exactly matter though; the monsters were too busy killing each other to organize and be a real problem. The samurai and ronin were the ones with the high demand and fatality rate now, not the shinobi.

Still—Kakashi shifted against the dull concrete wall and watched a plastic bag bob—he felt quiet inside, and cold, cold deep down where the weather couldn't touch.

It'd been a little over a week or so now, and he still hadn't thought up a good way to kill the Sand kid. He had a couple of ideas and had tossed them around with a couple more, but he had nothing good enough that met his standards.

If the kid was just extraordinary, then at least Kakashi could trust him to stay dead, but the demon complicated things. Not even the Yondaime had thought up a way to kill a demon—theoretically, it wasn't possible. And it was the demon, more than the kid, that wanted Kakashi dead.

All over the waterfront—all across the bay, actually—there wasn't a single sea gull. No birds, anywhere.

The mangy alley cat Hinata had taken in was gone. The scrawny animal had been missing fur, an ear, and half its tail. It would tear the kitchen apart if they left it alone and rip up Hinata's plants, and bite anyone who came close to it, except Neji, and he'd only kept it because Hinata wanted it.

The animal had been missing for two days, and Hinata was still looking for it in her free time. Not even the sparrows or mice had touched the cat's kibble she'd left outside.

The street dogs hadn't sniffed Kakashi when he'd half-walked, half-limped his way down to the waterfront. Dogs didn't bark at him and almost never attacked, but they _noticed_ him, and made sure he noticed them, even if they weren't looking for food or a hand. The street dogs had disappeared, and the penned-in dogs were silent now, reclusive.

All the lower life forms seemed to be evacuating, and Kakashi still wasn't sure who'd take leadership among the refugees if the monster killed him. Probably Iruka, but Neji and Ino had the talents to handle it together, if they could manage to keep off each other's backs. He'd already shipped Lee off to Asuma and Shino in the far north for 'rehabilitation' and security purposes. It hadn't been a_ complete_ lie, and with Gai still missing and possibly dead (probably), there weren't too many other people he trusted.

If he were following the stereotype of a traditional Western roughed-up protagonist, he'd probably be chain-smoking right now (or at least smoking a single desolately) or drinking. Because he wasn't, and because he didn't smoke and only drank in company or when suicidal, Kakashi only stared vacantly at nothing, leaving without a trace when the tide dropped low.

He did pick up a packet of cigarettes on his way back though. That probably didn't count.

***  
Six months ago:

In the provinces of Stone in the far north the dry artic air cut over the high craggy mountain precipices, cut through the jagged thin ravines and sharpened every rock and pebble sharper than the finest whetstone could've done. The landscape ranged from coal black to silk gray, to snakeskin-brittle to iron-hard. Little green grew in Stone, and it tended to stick close to the ground, to hide from the ice siroccos.

Stone was a land of little rain, cold wind, and ragged shadows: Stone was wolf country, cold and gray and mysterious, and it always made Naruto feel just a little on edge.

Not too on edge of course—the only monsters he had to worry about was the one who slept in his bed, and the other that slept in his head—but just the _tiniest _bit uncomfortable.

As a boy, he'd grown up with trees and buildings on all sides, and there was always a handy bush or alleyway to lurk in, and the fox in Naruto—which, while a monster, was still a fox—hated wolves, hated the infertile bedrock, hated the wide open sky.

So, with both centers of his being finally agreeing for once, Naruto had started a small garden on one of the small sheltered shelves above the fortress of the Demon King.

He'd planted mint.

The human part of him didn't really like mint, because it reminded him of toothpaste. The part of him that liked to roll in the dirt and garf down raw meat just didn't like it. Didn't like the smell. Made his muzzle itch.

Most of the soil in the garden was imported, and the mint burrowed and crawled through it, shoving up unusually tall waist-high stalks and white cones of tiny flowers. It was the only little spot of green for miles around, unless you counted Gaara's eyes, which Naruto didn't. The miserable little garden kept away whatever homesickness he felt, lowered his instinctual hackles, and passively annoyed him.

First, Naruto had tried dousing a section of the mint in petrol, then lighting the plant on fire. The smoke had been thick, very smelly (and a bit like toothpaste), and the damn thing had not burned particularly well at all. A few days later, after the half-assed fire had gone but the horrible stink lingered, Naruto ripped through another section with a rusty old scimitar that had been stolen from…somewhere, and left rusting somewhere else. Then he'd tried pouring bleach and other poisons over most of it, and that actually _worked_. The green bastards turned yellow and black and withered into crispy brown corpses.

For a while.

When Naruto had returned weeks later after killing one of his back-stabbing lieutenants—and it'd been one of the guys he'd actually liked, with funny hair, how fucked up was that?—he found that there were little yellow shoots clinging to the edges of his butt-wiped garden. Except for the first few times, when the mint had been kinda interesting, Naruto never bothered to water it.

A part of him had been impressed, and secretly proud; the rest of him had gone at the patch of sick vegetation with a flamethrower.

When Naruto had returned a couple of weeks later, the garden was still dead and black. He placed an order for more top-quality soil from Rain, and a seed packet of chrysanthemums, which was a very philosophical flower.

The next time he returned to the sequestered garden the plot of dirt was still black and ugly, dry. And, poking out of the sharp hard rock walls on three sides of the garden, were tiny sticks of sickly mint.

The packet of chrysanthemums was flushed down the toilet, in case you were wondering.

***  
He could…hear music playing. Far away. Very far away, small and strangled-out, but he could hear…something. Strange. Very strange, and badly executed.

He didn't want to hear it. He didn't…want. To hear_ anything. _

He wanted silence.

He was tired. He was so unbearably. _Tired. _

Gaara woke.

The sounds were more definite now: the foggy susurrus of buildings and trees carving out notes in the breeze, the dull clatter of people walking around, moving things, talking.

People far away, but not too far.

Not far enough.

It was harder to do than anything else in his life had even been, but Gaara managed to open his eyes. His eyelids felt gummy, glued together—his body stank, of sweat, urine, and blood.

He was sitting against a wall in the shade. In front of him was another wall, yellow brick and white stucco (was that right? Did it matter? …No), glowing with the sunlight hitting it. He was in…not a street, an alley. There was blue sky overhead, with a few white clouds.

It smelled…organic. Warm.

Gaara closed his eyes, and reached.

He didn't want this.

He'd…_been_ there. Silent. Cold.

He'd been there and it'd been…so…

Like a building regaining power, he began to regain feeling of his body, became aware of his toes and elbows and beaten hips, bruised thighs and his feet…bleeding. Still bleeding, badly. Still. And not healing.

_//Fuck.// _

Was…?  
_  
//Fuck.//  
_  
He didn't scream. He didn't. He didn't want to regain control, if it meant he had to feel.

Feel those…_that_…

The price was too high. Too high.

But he was himself. Still.

For the moment.

Wincing, lethargically, Gaara cracked his left eye open. He focused on the dark fuzzy lines instinctually, and concentrated until he could make out the legs and body of the other person in the alley with him.

He thought, briefly, of all the people in the world who wouldn't want to kill him, all the people he wouldn't want to kill.

He couldn't think of anyone.

It hurt too much to move—he was empty, dead and drained. Empty. Completely and utterly empty. He didn't know _why_ he felt that way, what had happened or when, but…

Gaara kept the man's gaze, an eye for an eye, and felt his throat dry out as he breathed slow and weak, spit dried to the corner of his mouth.

Even when Kakashi tiptoed nearer like a wolf scavenging a kill, Gaara kept his eye open. It wasn't the issue of death that bothered him, or even being murdered by a human, something he could rip apart in seconds.

It was a matter of…curiosity. Pride. Blood—

--blood lust; his blood or the human's, he wanted to be conscious blood was shed.

He hadn't lost that.

The cold blues and searing greens and dead grays in Kakashi's uniform blurred as he came closer, the colors—

--he had to blink to stay awake, conscious, _here_—

--the colors swimming together in his head, sloshing back in forth with gravity and hunger and an overload of sensory material—too much to handle, too much to understand.

It made him sick to his stomach, the colors and smell, the—

--the _stench _of human and sweat and old skin, the smell of something--

_//(someone always mine (mine?) always me mine but you're not we're not you're not—//_

--pain and death and power and the stink of human loss and weakness and reminding jabbing poking_ bleeding_ him--

_//none, never, not, none, nothing, no one not one nothing never me--//_

--starving him--

_//always marked smell mark mine mine me mine always I'm not we're not you're not--//_

//?)//

--which was why Kakashi had him halfway down the block before Gaara realized he was being carried in the other man's arms.

***  
He was still, as the great poet had once said in a clairvoyant moment of epiphany, _painfully_ hung-over, but Naruto didn't let that bother him too much. Not too much. Not as much as he _could _have, if Sasuke hadn't screwed him over so_ very_ successfully.

He'd been hung-over _before_. He'd never been hung-over this _long_ or _badly_ before, but he'd _live_ through it.

_Maybe_. If it got less painful.

Every three or four steps he'd stumble on the dirty sand, trip on a used condom or beer bottle, or kick a dead jelly fish. He was a few hundred kilometers south of Yaka-whatever. Yaka-something. Or was it Something-mori?

Where Iruka was. Naruto was aware that he could be there tonight, if he mysteriously acquired a motorbike. Which would be easy. If he wanted to.

Voices several meters ahead of him caught Naruto's attention, briefly: a trio of kids were gathered around a beached dolphin, a light grayish lump on the sand.

After he'd come to yesterday afternoon in an alley smelling strongly of piss and vomit (and now pipe cleaner and bleach), stumbled around and thrown up himself, Naruto had ransacked Sasuke's hotel room, ripped through the mattress and smelled every crack in the floorboards and walls.

The place had _reeked_ of bleach, and burned through Naruto's sinuses and had made him violently sick—or was that just the hang-over? It _could_ have been the hang-over. This horrible, horrible hang-over that made him want to cry and fall to his knees and suck his thumb, made him want to rip someone's ribs apart. Such a horrible, horrible hang-over.

Fucking A.

Either way, Sasuke was gone and so was his smell. The jerk hadn't even left a note or said good-bye proper.

On the beach, Naruto raised his eyebrows as a fourth kid came flying down the beach with a fishing pike held over his head, heading for the dolphin group. The trio moved away from the gray lump silently, obediently, and Naruto watched as the beached animal curled its tail and moved an arm to crawl away.

The kid slowed and stopped a few cautious feet away, raised the pike in a business-like manner, then screamed when his bare arm caught fire, blue-orange flames crushing the wooden pike handle to splinters. Scarlet and green flames ripped through the damp sand and any sandals that weren't running away fast enough.

Naruto tripped and meandered on until he was close enough to crouch by the mermaid on the dirty (and now bloody) sand. He patted his pockets absently for a cigarette he didn't have.

"Are there _any_ guys with you people? I mean, I like fishy dyke action as much as the next guy, but are you _all_ girls? Like, _all_ of you? How do you make babies?"

The mermaid's inky smooth eyes were half-open, turning gray in the center from too much sunlight, her gills bloated and discolored from oxygen deprivation. Naruto scratched his knees as he watched her breathe through her mouth, slow and thin.

He desperately wanted a cigarette.

"I could kill you," he murmured, knowing she couldn't understand him, could barely hear the wavelength his voice was on even if she'd been healthy. "But you're going to die anyway. It'd be mercy, whatever I do. Even if I do nothing. To someone."

Two big black flies settled on her hairless gray eyelids, licked her eyes with their tongues. Her eyelids twitched, but she couldn't blink and the flies stayed where they were. Naruto wasn't sure she could see him, if she was looking at him.

"Whatever I do," Naruto murmured, wrapping his hand around her neck and pressing her esophagus in, "I doubt I'll surprise anyone."

He threw her back into the ocean, easily. Then he continued trawling up the beach, heading north.

***  
One of the nice things about Asuma-sensei was the fact that he was considerate enough to smoke, constantly. Ino could pass through a room or huddle on a tree branch and know if Asuma-sensei had been through there just by the smell of cheap cigarettes; it made him more human.

For a jounin, Asuma-sensei was pretty normal, reliable. If people were in danger, Asuma-sensei would probably let someone else take care of it. If Chouji was sick to his stomach from over-eating, Asuma-sensei had probably gotten him that way. If Shikamaru was absent, or hidden away somewhere they'd never think to look, Asuma-sensei would send Ino out to look for him, while Asuma sat in the shade and smoked.

The nice thing about Asuma-sensei was that he made _sense_. He'd been lazy and dull and very teacher-ish, but he'd made sense. Sense was nice.

Kakashi passed her in the foyer on his way up the stairs, carrying another man in his arms.

Ino slowed down, and stared. "Sensei?"

"Yeah?" Kakashi didn't slow down, moving up the creaky wooden steps in absolute silence. If she hadn't been used to it, Ino would've been jealous.

"What are you _doing_?" Ino asked, because it was perfectly possible that maybe Kakashi was bringing home a corpse, or had found a very good lifelike doll, and had done something completely and totally different that had _nothing to do_, whatsoever, with bringing home a bloodied-up guy that looked a _hell_ of a lot like the monster that had helped kill half of Konohakagure's people. Including her family. And Kakashi's, if he had any.

It was perfectly possible. Kakashi-sensei wasn't that reckless. Kakashi-sensei was really very, very smart. Everyone knew that.

"Going upstairs," Kakashi answered, before moving silently out of her sight.

Kakashi-sensei probably had never heard of sense. At least, not common sense. Which was strange, because he and Asuma-sensei had gotten along very well.

Ino skipped up the first four loudly-creaking steps, "Need help killing it?"

"No, thanks."

"Want me to get Iruka-sensei?" because _he'd_ want to kill it.

"Fine. Get Hinata here, while you're at it."

***  
It hadn't been long; not _that_ long.

After all, it was only last fall—a few months ago—that he'd burned down the forest, torched Konohakagure and most of the Fire Country. It wasn't even spring yet—still mid-winter, really.

In reality, it hadn't really been long at all. Not long enough to leave him feeling this thrashed and beaten, gouged out and torn up. Hell, he'd been _riding_ the wave, spurring it on, _winning_, and then he'd…tripped. Tumbled. And it really _hurt_.

Naruto hung out of the train's passenger window, an unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Trains were still something of a novelty to him—he'd done a lot of traveling when he was busy creating himself, a workable kingdom, and he'd ridden the subway and other trains when he was on vacation with Gaara and screwing like monkeys on side, but trains still fascinated him.

It was just—just the _idea_. The _feeling_ of moving so fast, in a straight line, going faster than he could on foot or by animal and doing it so damn _easily_, without tiring his body or straining himself in any way. He loved trains; they were fun. The ride was even helping his hang-over; he could sleep on the bench if he wanted to, let the gentle swaying and straight lines soothe his mind.

If he were to evaluate his situation—which came naturally when he was smoking and moderately content and still-hung over—he'd find himself homeless (again) and loveless (again). Or lover-less at least; friend-less. Most definitely still hung over.

In the great scheme of things, he'd never planned on this scenario. He'd planned on being _dead_, but not on being alone. He didn't have a plan out of it, either. He hadn't thought he'd _need_ one.  
_  
//I miss you.// _

Naruto ducked inside the empty train car and slouched in his seat. He'd finally managed to acquire some decent clothes from a tourist-y beach store (he'd removed the price tags), mainly for his own benefit than for anyone else's. He didn't care if anyone saw him naked; he didn't even have to worry about shrinkage, since his cock stayed mainly the same length regardless of the cold. Normal people couldn't even _see_ him if he didn't feel like being seen; he'd just gotten tired of cold drafts in sensitive places, of seeing himself looking like that.

_//I have your power. All of it. I did what we wanted. Have I complained about this before? I think I have. I can't really remember.// _

Did he want his kingdom back? The political power, the wealth?

Naruto inhaled deeply, the cigarette lighting on its own, and exhaled smoke through his nose.

In some ways, it'd been nice—he'd gotten nearly whatever he wanted, nearly whoever he wanted, and he had all the control.

He'd been—nearly—completely free.

Sure, it'd taken a lot of work. A whole lot of work; managing people and motives and profits, keeping everyone inside his organization on a leash long enough to keep them happy but short enough to choke them if they tried to do something stupid, keeping everyone on the outside uncertain enough not to attack him but certain_ enough_ to deal with him.

It'd taken a lot of work, balancing, climbing.

_//You could have told me.// _

Most of it hadn't been _his_ work.

He'd been the puppet, not the master--and he'd been fine with that, he'd gotten what he wanted out of the deal. No one else knew (except maybe Gaara, who wouldn't care), and he hadn't been used badly.

_//You could have said goodbye. Told me that you would leave my head, after you got your revenge./ _/

At least, he didn't think he'd been used badly. Not really.

_//I guess revenge was the only thing keeping you alive, at the end, huh?// _

Being a shinobi was all about being used, being someone else's tool, for better or worse. And, even if he'd taken a different direction in life, that was how he'd been raised. How he'd been _told_ to think, even if he did fight back plenty and hardly listened.  
_  
//So, if I'm like you, will I die too? Once I get what I want?// _

The train slowed and the intercom beeped lowly, and Naruto inhaled on another cigarette while walking onto the loading platform. A chill wind combed him over, going through his summer clothes—a black polo, orange nylon swim trunks, and violently green plastic sandals—like a heated knife through butter.

_//I miss you. I didn't think…I would. This much. The voice inside my head.//  
_  
Yakawa. Miserable little port town, in his opinion.

Naruto wandered in to town, badly dressed for the winter, and didn't even feel the cold. Underneath his skin his blood was heated, and hungry.

***  
In darkness—

--he floated. It was quiet.

Outside darkness—

--ants built iron towers in red pain outside his head outside silence red crimson tiny ants with feet and fingers and knives and teeth and—

_//kill them//_

//parasites//

//trash//

--someone's skin on his skin.

_//Mine//_

//Safe.// 

Gaara sank back into silence, harmless.

***  
"Are you out of your _mind_?! Have you gone completely blood _simple_, do you have any _idea_—"

"Listen--" Kakashi inhaled.

"Eh, s-sensei, maybe—"

"He's right," Neji interrupted.

"—monster _is_? What it did to us—what it did to—"

"B-but Neji, m-maybe--"

"You're being irration—"

"It's a danger to _every_—"

"—b-badly hurt, h-he can't--"

"--including you, Kakashi-san."

"—out of your _mind_? What were you _thinking_ bringing that—"

"Can you all shut up?" Kakashi didn't bothering looking up as he finished one of the inked wards on Gaara's right forearm, the mixture of kanji and bindings resembling a home-made tattoo job.

Logically, he'd known things wouldn't go over well when he brought the kid home. He'd expected opposition, hostility, and resistance.

He'd hadn't planned on throwing half the compound out of the attic, but it wasn't nearly as bad as he'd expected; no one actually tried to go _through_ him to get to the kid.

At least, not yet anyway.

"You shouldn't bother," Neji added again, sounding strangely relaxed. "It's nearly dead anyway."

"We can't wait until it recovers consciousness," Iruka had brought his voice down to a more tolerable level, angrier and more violent than Kakashi could honestly ever remember. "I don't know what you were thinking or your motives but we have no possible _way_--"

"If he dies," Kakashi began working on the right forearm, connecting the chakra points and throughways, "the demon inside him will be released."

"—to control him _or_ it, regardless," Iruka continued seething, reminding Kakashi of one of the many ways Iruka could be his least favorite person to argue with; Iruka didn't step down if it meant endangering other people, even if risk seemed lucrative. "And that result is only theoretical at best, but if he wakes _up_…"

Kakashi hoped this was only a dramatic pause, and continued to scribble.

"This was the one that broke your legs," Iruka watched him from the other side of the low cot. "Wasn't it?"

"Yeah," because there was no point in lying about it now.

"But it didn't kill you."

Ah crap. Kakashi repressed the urge to react, "No. It didn't."

"Ah," Hinata broke the prolonged moment quietly, her nervous frowning accentuating her heavily veined eyes as she studied the scant energy flows in Gaara's body. "Eh, he, ah, he isn't w-well enough to, um…d-do anything. He's n-nearly dead."

Kakashi finished up with the right arm, noting the Hinata was probably the only one in the room who would call Gaara a 'he', instead of an 'it'.

"Those restraints won't hold it," Neji added off to the side, arriving at the same conclusion Iruka had without choosing a course of action. "Not if it wakes up."

"They're not supposed to," Kakashi stood, eyeing the inked markings and iron bed frame Gaara was laying on, separated only by a few heavy old sheets and some sheaves of broken cardboard boxes. "Iruka, I want to talk to you outside. Hinata, keep an eye on him."

Of course, if Neji wanted to kill the kid, Hinata wouldn't be able to stop him. But still, for the look of things…

Iruka closed the attic's trapdoor behind them quietly, the tense restrained energy showing in his every clipped movement, from the way he moved his neck to the way he looked at Kakashi—not glaring, not seething, but only barely.

In a perverse way, Kakashi found it highly amusing—good to see some fire back in Iruka, the paternal protectiveness and maternal bloodlust. He kept himself from smiling though; Iruka wouldn't get the joke.

"I found him in the city," Kakashi stated quietly, weighing the chances of being openly attacked, knowing Neji and Hinata (and probably Ino and Shikamaru below them) were listening in, through the cracks or jutsus or whatever was handy. "He was already like this."

"Why did you bring him here?" Iruka sounded strained, cold. "For what purpose?"

"Thought that would be obvious," Kakashi slouched against the wall, letting himself sound mildly surprised (not enough to enrage him, but enough piss Iruka off). "Observational purposes; it's easier to defend ourselves if our enemy is in plain sight and in our custody--"

"That thing isn't _in_ our custody Kakashi," Iruka hissed, keeping his voice low, "that thing was _never_--"

"It was a calculated risk."

"—our control. And, perhaps, neither are you."

"You weren't a qualified psychoanalyst when Konoha was standing," Kakashi pointed out irritably, "you're not one now either. And I told you: it was a calculated risk."

"It attacked you and let you live," Iruka returned, "the same thing the Fox did to Sasuke, and you didn't have any problem doubting _his_ sanity. Why should we treat yours differently?"

Damn. He really hated arguing with Iruka.

"Because I know what the demon was trying to do to me," Kakashi sighed, languidly frustrated, "I don't know what the fox's goals were with Sasuke, or the extent of the damage. The sand demon attacked me originally with the intent of murder. The only reason it let me live was because it wanted to make a deal."

"A deal? A _deal_," Iruka raised an eyebrow incredulously. "And you believed it?"

"It asked me to destroy its human vessel," Kakashi shrugged, nonchalant, "then to kill _it_, within a two week period. The human vessel doesn't have much power left, as the Hyuugas have pointed out, so we can reasonably control it for a time—let me _finish_ first—and I don't think demons are suicidal. Maybe they are, maybe _it_ is, but I would prefer to take cautious action."

"You brought it _home _with you!"

"Yes," Kakashi acknowledged, noting that Iruka became the stereotypical parent to almost everyone, "it tracked me down the first time, and it seems to have tracked me down again. As long as I'm in the group and the demon exists, everyone is _always_ at risk because I'm the one it's after. If you want me to leave,"—and that may have been the better course of action, he knew that--"I will, but I need some time to prepare."

"It's only targeted you," Iruka mused. "What are you planning—what _were_ you planning to do? By bringing it here?"

"I _told_ you, observational purposes. Keep the human vessel where we can see it, monitor its health, energy, and keep it alive but only _barely_ until we have a surer course of action available. He's not entirely unmanageable—Sand kept him tame for several years," Kakashi reasoned, trying build on the tiny moment of Iruka-curiosity, "before they were destroyed."

"I don't want to follow their example," Iruka hissed again, keyed-up. "What the hell are you planning to do if it's _not_ manageable?"

"Take the uncalculated risk," Kakashi shrugged again, "and cut his throat. It's not hard."

True, he was being condescending. True, also, Iruka was being stubborn, over-protective, and had several valid concerns. However, Kakashi thought he was completely right and logical and since he _also_ thought he was the unnamed leader of this cell of survivors, he would win the argument and get his way. Provided Iruka didn't put up too much of a fight and screw everything up.

Kakashi waited, and pretended to be annoyed and bored.

"We don't even know how long he's going to be unresponsive like that," Iruka groused, but silently signaling a temporary surrender. "He could snap back to life at any minute."

"We don't even know how long he was in the city," Kakashi agreed, helpful and modest after getting his way, "or what his reasons or goals are. However, at least this way we can get a clue, rather than have him running on the loose and be open to an attack at any moment. It's dangerous, but sometimes the safest hiding place is your enemy's shadow."

"Unnecessary," Iruka muttered, mildly pissed and recognizing the textbook quote; he'd made millions of brats memorize the fact, after all. "He might not have been alone."

Kakashi didn't answer immediately. He had information others probably didn't and an untested theory (which wasn't much), and everyone was on edge enough already; he had to be careful. "I don't think that's a strong possibility."

"You've been keeping a lot of things from us," Iruka said a bit too calmly. "That's a liability we can't afford."

"I tell you what you need to know; I have reaso—"

"Sensei!" Hinata's voice hissed urgently through the trap door, "the prisoner, he's--"

***  
He would probably be followed. Happened every other time he wanted to be alone.

Ignoring the usual evidence, because the ache in his neck hadn't started throbbing red yet and he didn't feel any of Kakashi-sensei's cronies following him, Sasuke didn't take pains to skulk through the streets, didn't make himself anymore invisible than he normally did.

If he was going to be honest with himself—

No. No, that wasn't right. Wasn't correct. He was honest with himself—had always been painfully honest with himself. Lies—to the self—were self-serving, self-indulgent, and he didn't have the patience for that sort of bullshit anyway. Hell; he didn't have patience for_ any_ sort of bullshit, and the convenient kind was no different.

The problem wasn't lying to himself. That wasn't it.

He wanted to talk—no. He _needed_ to talk to Kakashi-sensei. He needed and wanted to, badly.

But, naturally, like every other time he wanted company, he was alone. He'd probably be alone for a while, until he could stop avoiding Kakashi-sensei, keep himself from sneaking out of the compound whenever he knew Kakashi-sensei was coming.

The problem wasn't lying to himself. The problem was…the main problem was…

Even though he'd grown up in a wealthy clan, surrounded by uncles and aunts and hundreds of cousins and second-cousins he couldn't remember, people he wasn't even sure _how_ he was related to, living in crowded spaces still bothered him. Or even living in moderately social environments like Yakawa bothered him.

Even the less moderately social environment of Konohakagure had…that had bothered him too. Knowing that everyone there knew _him_, knowing that they could intrude on his privacy or home whenever they wanted to (although hardly anyone did, no one except Sakura when she scraped up the courage, or Naruto when he was super bored), bothered him.

If he was going to be honest with himself—

--and he could be honest with himself, he_ was_ honest with himself—

--he missed the forests.

The huge, looming trees, taller and darker than any of the buildings or alleys he'd run across in the cities. Nothing really compared to them, in the metal and cement world; nothing matched them, nothing really even imitated them. Konahakagure had been a modern Village, complete with billboards and wireless technology, but the modernity had never drowned out the natural taste, the maze of forests.

And—as Sasuke stalked through the small community park where mothers brought their kids to play and old people came to take in the sunshine and sleep—he had no idea how old the forests even _were_.

The trees here, in this park and even in the rural stretches between cities and towns, were _tiny_. Miniscule. Itsy-bitsy. Baby-sized. And most of the trees planted were usually older than he was. Older than Kakashi. And they were still so_ small_.

Even if he lived to see a hundred years—which he probably wouldn't, Sasuke doubted he'd live to see 30—he'd never see the forests of Konohakagure again. Not like they used to be.

That wasn't the problem either. Not the problem that was slowing him down.

Loss had followed Sasuke all his life, from his family to his friends to his home to the sacred privacy of his own mind and soul; loss was the defining feature of his existence. Of his life.

That fact had lost its melodrama over time. Now it was just something to keep in mind.

He couldn't afford to let it slow him down. He would've died, years and years ago, if he'd been that weak. That emotionally attached.

***  
It was not particularly gentle, but Kakashi shoved open the trapdoor (and Hinata) faster than Hinata could move out of his way or Iruka could move _into_ his way, most likely bruising some skin (and possibly egos) along the way, but he was a bit too terrified to worry about those.

There was nothing worse than being wrong. Especially when people would die because he was wrong.

The kid was still on the bed. His eyes were still closed. But his face tense, frowning, and—

--froze when Kakashi reached the bed.

The monster's breathing was labored, his ribs showing easily through his unhealthy translucent skin and torn and dirty shirt, but his face was taut. On instinct—or a gamble—Kakashi gingerly brushed a knuckle against the ravaged cheekbones, all his weight balanced on his toes and praying (something he hadn't completely forgotten to do) desperately in the quiet silence of his mind.

Gaara grunted. Then his body relaxed, and melted into the thick musty sheets.

His heartbeat sounded very loud in his temples. Not so much in his ears—his ears were picking the sub-audible whisper of drawn weapons from behind and below and the even quieter hum of chakra (could Neji kill it? Disable it? Would that actually hold the demon's power in check?)—but in his temples.

On a second guess—gamble?—he pressed his fingers, lightly, into the juncture of the teen's neck, as close to the place where the original demon had ripped flesh from him as Kakashi could determine.

Gaara's breathing steadied immediately, and slowed in the same shallow child-like trance breathing Kakashi had brought him inside with.

"I'll stay with him," Kakashi murmured gently to the shadow clones and writhing shadows at his back. "The very instant my student decides to show up, notify me."

After all, most of his decisions were based on information he wasn't even sure was _correct…_

"The very instant. But don't let him inside. And don't say his name."

***  
In a way, he kind of_ knew_ what the problem was. Had a good idea of what the problem was.

He needed to talk to Kakashi-sensei. He didn't _want_ to talk to Kakashi-sensei. Except, that he _did_ want to talk to Kakashi-sensei; badly.

Part of the problem was, he didn't_ know_ what he wanted to do, but he was getting frustrated with his indecision and not doing _anything_. Not improving or degenerating. Just staying in a hot fuzzy middle area that seemed to be getting smaller and smaller, closing in on him. Bringing him down.

Even when he wasn't present, Naruto still hunted him. And Sasuke still felt like an animal, the prey.

He wanted to talk to Kakashi-sensei, but he couldn't. He couldn't see how…how anything, how the words, the information, _anything_, how any of it would transfer. He couldn't see how Kakashi-sensei would have any other choice but to throw him out on his ass, or make him do something he didn't _want_ to.

But something he should have done. He knew that. He _knew _that.

Closing his eyes, Sasuke leaned against the trunk of one of the miniature elms, and let his legs fold underneath him and let his body and clothes sag and melt into the shadows—not ninjutsu, or even a ninja technique, but a simple trick of melting into the background. Even animals knew it; he'd learned it as a child.

Maybe Naruto wasn't wrong. But that didn't justify his actions, his violence.

Sasuke's eyes snapped open, almost on their own—that wasn't something he wanted to think about, neither in body or mind. That was something he would have _liked_ to lie about, but since he couldn't, he ignored it until he couldn't afford to anymore.

That was the real problem. Well. No, not really. But it was _part_ of the real problem.

It didn't even smell_ close_ to what the forests had smelled like—there was still the dried-out taste of diesel exhaust, the sunburnt feel of too much paved ground and glass. Here, in the park, he could focus on the tang of grass and weeds, the musty-oily perfume of the elm and eucalyptus, but there was always the undertone of the city.

Always the undertone of…and only in his mind, and he _knew_ it was only his mind and he couldn't_ stop_ smelling it…

…the of ashes. Fire and blood. The sick-sweet stink of charring flesh.

The memory of darkness. Metal bars. Helplessness. Fear. Hatred, thick and foaming and poisonous. Suicidal, even.

Everything—when it had happened, it'd happened so fast, so damn fast, he couldn't think or breathe, he could only act and fight and fight and fight and fight and lose. He always lost. Lost something.

He wasn't even sure the Fox intended it. _Meant_ for it to happen, the way he'd been the only Uchiha left alive. He was never sure if it was intentional, if he was _worth_ something to his enemies, or if it was just _convenient_ for them. If he was just a side-note they'd never bothered with, because he wasn't important enough.

Betrayal. He'd lost a memory.

He wasn't sure if the Fox—if Naruto—meant for him to feel the duplicity as…as _keenly_ as he did. Maybe he didn't.

Maybe it was all only in Sasuke's head, Sasuke's heart. Maybe it wasn't real at all. Maybe he was the only one aware of the loss, the loss of hope.

He couldn't afford to become emotionally attached. He would die.

And, if he hadn't been nearly-dead, hadn't been starved and drugged out of his mind, always fighting to keep his sanity, to keep his integrity, if he hadn't—

--if he hadn't _lied_ to himself, hadn't told himself that none of this was really happening, that Naruto would never _do_ this, would never hurt Sakura would never hurt _him_ not this way, not this way not ever this was sick this was wrong he wouldn't _do_ that—

--he could have killed Naruto. It wouldn't have been easy…would've been almost impossible but only _almost_, he'd nearly done it _once_ and then he'd…he'd…

Well. That was the problem, wasn't it? That was the big problem, now. The biggest. The one he needed to talk about, only he _couldn't_ talk to _anyone_ about this, not in a million _years_. Never.

He'd slept with him instead. Had…_sex_ with him. Several times. Many times.

In different ways. And positions. And lots of different places, on the bed and shower and floor and once against the wall over and over again, Naruto underneath him or against him or kneeling in front of him. The same Naruto who'd done…everything he'd done. Everything Sasuke had lost, what hadn't been already taken by his brother.

Which made Sasuke a traitor too, by association. Maybe not on the same _scale_…but what if it was a trick? What if he was a fool? He was still betraying people who trusted him…somewhat. They could be killed—Kakashi-sensei could be killed—and it would be because of his…his…

Because of him.

Because he'd…

It'd happened more than once. Originally, it started because he _knew_ the Fox was going to kill him in his sleep, that Naruto would try and break into his mind, once and for all, the minute he went to sleep, lowered his defenses. He'd_ known_.

So he'd…stayed awake. Stayed alert. Waited, vigilant and cautious in the darkness and very, very naked and sweaty and wet with more than sweat while Naruto pressed against him, as close as he could before Sasuke instinctually kicked him or moved.

He'd been careful, heedful, he'd done all the right _things_, and sometimes he wouldn't sleep at all, naked or clothed and warm underneath the sheets and he'd _still_—

--and it wasn't his fault! He wasn't trying to! He wasn't even _looking_ for it (he wouldn't look for it why would he look for it? he wasn't that sadistic he wasn't that _stupid_ he wasn't he wasn't he was _not_) and he'd _still_ see…

…See Naruto. Wearing the Fox's face.

Simple, bland, and heart-stopping.

Traces of his friend, even though they'd never called each other that, never said _what_ they were because it wasn't true and too embarrassing and they already _knew_, anyway. They didn't need to say it. They'd understood each other, in a way no one else did, in a way no one else ever _had_, and it'd been…perfect.

He couldn't smell without smelling fire, couldn't be inside without feeling helpless, terror, but he could see his _past_ in the goddamned_ Fox_ and that didn't bother him.

Except that it did. As it should.

Only, sometimes it didn't.

He couldn't help flinching when he felt Fox come in the room, couldn't push the panic out of his throat, but he could shove his tongue down _Naruto's_ throat, and could fuck him rough and hard—

--But _only_ as long as he remembered not to be too _gentle_ with him, as long as he remembered to act accordingly, remembered not to do what he _wanted_ (to kiss him softly and slowly, down his back and stomach and suck his cock slow and heated and play with his body and his balls and his thighs until Naruto was writhing, keening, _wanting_…and _then_ fuck him slow, tantalizing and teasing out the foreplay as long as he could, making the pleasure go as high and far and long as it could until they were both shaking inside, until Naruto was hoarse and he needed to and then just, just--).

He couldn't do…He couldn't do _anything_ that would arouse suspicion. Nothing that would let the Fox know he was…

He had to be careful. So very careful, to make sure he wasn't caught in the shower, hands between his legs and Naruto (_what_ Naruto used to be, _who_ Naruto used to be) in his mind touching him there instead, doing other things to him. Had to be careful about what passed through his mind, in case Naruto was listening in, however shallowly. Had to be careful about how he even looked at Naruto, how he dreamed, what he dreamed, that he never thought about—

--about Naruto pressing him into the bed, gentle and sweet and him—him, his--between his legs and—

--He'd been so damn terrified about being raped.

About being violated. Taken. Hurt. Losing whatever integrity, whatever honor he still had left.

He still was. He _still_ was.

If Sasuke was honest with himself—and he could be—he'd admit that he frightened himself. That he was apprehensive about how very fucked up he was inside, how twisted and misaligned and more apprehensive because he couldn't fix that, even though he tried so very damn hard.

He needed to talk to Kakashi-sensei. Badly. So badly. And what would Kakashi-sensei say? What could he say? If he couldn't fix himself, who the fuck could?

The ironic part was—the part that would make him laugh, if he wasn't trying so very hard to act rationally, to not be crazy—was even if he ignored the traces, the hints of the old friend, he still couldn't kill him. Still.

He had the enemy sleeping under his arm, sometimes burrowing underneath him at 3:15 in the morning and clinging to him, and he still couldn't kill it.

Even when he was angry. Even when he was sane. Even when he realized that he was a traitor, a hypocrite. He couldn't do…anything.

It wasn't until it got to be too much, too thick and sickening and waiting for Naruto to come, expecting to see him and not hurt and then finally seeing the goddamned box and realizing that, in truth, in reality, Naruto and he were both hypocrites.

It wasn't a grand game of cat and mouse, a lavish scheme of seduction and betrayal, it was just…just two kids, being so_ very_ incredibly stupid. Foolish. And that…that was too much.

At some point, Sasuke's eyes had closed. He could hear a woman talking 20 ft away, the words muffled, could hear a child mumbling to itself as it played in the sandbox below the red plastic slide directly in front of him. It was cold in the shade, but he liked the cold; it grounded him. The darkness behind his eyes, the quiet asylum behind his family's bloody legacy, was far less demanding than the sunlight and sand outside.

_//What did you do to me?// _

He hadn't done anything to make things better. All Sasuke had done, that he could see, was run away. Cause a distraction. Buy himself some time.

He wanted…Kakashi's help. He needed…someone he could trust. Another hand in the darkness, one that wasn't his or a monster's.

If he would _grab_ that hand…that was another question.

***  
It was…

…pleasant.

_//Mine.// _

Cold, but…

_//Mine.// _

…stable. Serene.

Skin on his skin, smell of stale water, dried blood and…

…fire and lightening, charred and charged and…

_//Mine…//_

_//…?//_

…old. Stale. Flaky.  
_  
//…Safe…safe…but…//  
_  
…old lightening? No. No. No, there was…there was something…

…delightfully calming. Being like…_this_. This way. Cold and…

…touched. Always, always touched. Caressed. Polished. So…so very…

_//Familiar. This…this smell…//_

Fire and lightening. Fire and blood. Lightening and…and pain. Pain, hurt, bleeding from the throat, bleeding from where he…where he couldn't _reach_, where he couldn't bite, where he couldn't, where he _wasn't_…

Smell of stale water, dried blood…and metal, steel shavings and iron knives, iron bars, and—

--isolation—

--asphyxiation--

_//hurts hurts hurts hurts/_/

--futility--  
_  
//…hurts…//  
_  
Skin on his skin. Cold. Hard. And…

…Voice. Rough, deep, threatening. Cold, imposing, and…serene. Pushing the, the _noise_ out, making it worse, making it…  
_  
//hear me?//  
_  
No…no…

_//want me? you want?// _

Monotonous. No change. Steady.  
_  
//I…I…/_/

***  
"…is 60. 5 by 13 is 65. 5 by 14 is 70. 5 by 15 is 75. 5 by 16 is…"

This seemed too convenient to be coincidence; there was also a chance Iruka had been completely right. Kakashi didn't think it was much of a chance, or that evasion was the best course of action, but…

"…by 26 is 130. 5 by 27 is 135. 5 by…"

The pained sub-audible whimpers weren't coming from Gaara's gaunt throat anymore, and his breathing was starting to slow again; this attack had been quieter and less dramatic than the earlier one during Kakashi's absence, but at least he'd been able to reason out a motive for that one.

Unexpectedly, Gaara's cheek turned into Kakashi's palm. The boy's—teenager's, nearly an adult Kakashi reminded himself, and a very avid murderer—eyelashes were wet, and skin possibly a few shades paler. The monster's thin ribcage continued to move in slow, excruciating movements, while the kid's overall skeleton shuddered minutely, regularly.

"5 by 31 is 155. 5 by 32 is 160. 5 by 33 is 165," There was also the chance Neji and Hinata were right; it didn't seem likely that Gaara would survive another 24 hours. Then what would he do? What could he do? How quickly could he schedule a mass-evacuation?

Most likely, not quickly enough.

"5 by 34 is 170. 5 by 35 is 175."

Ideally, it would only take half an hour to clear out the port town—however, if they were going to be running from a demon on a rampage, circumstances weren't likely to be ideal.  
_  
//Can you hear me?//  
_  
"…is 195. 5 by 40 is…"  
_  
//Is this what you want? What did you--//  
_  
"Sir," Neji's voice came from outside the second-story wall, hushed and indifferent. "We've found him."

_//Fuck. He is here.// _

"…by 44 is 220. Move him. 5 by 45…"

_//Keep sleeping. Keep--//_

The monster opened his eyes half-way.

_//Knew that was going to happen.// _

The monster closed his eyes—a murky, cloudy jade color, dilated and unfocused--a quarter of the way when Kakashi stroked a thumb over his eyebrows, rubbed and massaged the human skin curbing the demon's power. He couldn't feel Neji's chakra outside, couldn't smell him, but the demon's senses were sharper than his, irritatingly sharper, and while Neji's scent was something the demon had already been exposed to with no problems, Sasuke's would be different case.

If, of course, Neji had gotten close enough to him for that to matter.

Kakashi pushed that thought away—there was no telling how close the monster's mind was to his own, if Gaara connected to him through more than scent and touch—and kept the multiplication tables coming.

***  
Constant and—

--pounding neon—

--and—

_//did you wan--//_

Blood and old lightening. Blue blur green gray.

Flaking smell, dying smell, mature not raw not dying not—

_//help meh//_

//mine help mE you ha--//

"Shhhhh," clicking wooden sounds high up above the clouds cold crystal—cold fog dry rain clean wood empty space the—

--Silence.

Spacious.

"Shhhhh."

Clean.

Closed his eyes—aching soothing cooling and—calming. Tired. Nails over his scalp, through his hair—

_//yes…yes…//_

--human contact. Physical—

_//I'm not, I'm_ not--//

--language. Communication. Falling. Sinking. Safety. Pleasure. Security.  
_  
//keep--//  
_  
Sinki—struggling. Digging…down. Safe. Safety. Sinking…darkness. Rocks. Lead pipes. Copper traces. Sedimentary rock; sandstone, limestone. Mother. Sinking deep. Glass. Rock and—  
_  
//keep me//  
_  
--glass. Rock and…lightening. Rock…  
_  
//--eep me. no. no. no pleas--//  
_  
…and fire soaring swirling roaring _screaming—_  
_  
//--se, hel--//  
_  
"Shh, it's--"  
_  
::The hell?::_

//Fuck.//

FIRE.

//EEEEEEEEEEEEE--//  
  
The house tore itself in two.

***  
"Shhhit!"

He would punch himself, if Sasuke could find which part of his skull hurt—there was definite pain going on there, it felt like someone had scalped off the top of his skull and hammered icicles through his brain.  
_  
//What happened, what was that that, what happened, what happ--?//  
_  
In the distance—in the far, far distance, the one that didn't have anything to do with the sudden short screaming that echoed in Sasuke's brain like an avalanche—it had sounded like something exploded, like a muffled gunshot the size of a truck.

He tried to get to his feet—_screaming_, what the hell?—using the tree he'd been drowsing against, but he couldn't see clearly and his joints didn't want to work correctly.

He could hear the kid crying behind him, birds screeching and whirling agitatedly, so he hadn't had nightmare. It just felt—

—pain dark bitter kill you kill you_ kill you—_

—like he'd had one, a nightmare that hadn't…hadn't been his?

"S-sasuke?" Hinata materialized at his elbow, the veins surrounding her eyes thick and pronounced. She looked paler than usual.

"What's going on?" his was hoarse, unnaturally dry, as if he'd been shouting for hours. He didn't sound like him, and he caught a flicker of something in Hinata's eyes, dislike, unease—maturity and the Byakugan made it hard to read her expression, but not impossible. "What the hell happened?"

"I—well, um, see," Hinata shrugged, "we n-need you to leave. Now. Orders."

"Why? Where's Kakashi?" _//Why? It has to do with me. That scream—it has to do with me.// _

"T-that's not important"—but she glanced nervously over his shoulder, to the rising cloud of dust— "you _have_ to c-come—"

But Sasuke was already gone. Under her feet, several hundred miles under and undetectable, the ground shivered awake.

"D-darn it!"

On the streets around her and in the sky, panic erupted as birds swarmed and screeched and people ran and screamed. And, gliding through the higher pitched raucous, was the howl of every dog in town.

***  
There was vomit down his shirt. On his shirt. Against his cheek.

Ah. Fantastic.

_Now_. He needed…needed to stand_ up…_

Hah. Needed to remember which way up was first.

Naruto coughed and spit, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Almost made him glad he hadn't eaten anything solid in a while.

His skull…felt like it had turned into molten lead. Incandescent and oozing.

He pulled himself up slowly, unsteadily, and waited until he got his balance and coherence back. Until he could remember who he was, and who he wasn't.

When he'd first started experimenting, Naruto had had some fairly bad mind-fucks, impressions against his own consciousness and identity that had left him sick and woozy for days, sometimes weeks or months. She—the Kyuubi, who'd been the Fox before it'd transferred over to him—had walked him through most of it, the parts he couldn't handle.

She had always known who she was, what she was, so the semi-telepathy had been a game to her, one where the people who got hurt were never her.

Humans, though, didn't have that same kind of certainty—Naruto's various headaches and backlashes were proof of that.

And now—now there were lots imprints on his mind, nearly three, maybe more, and he hadn't meant to touch any of them.

Well. Maybe one of them, if he thought Sasuke wouldn't throw a violently homicidal or suicidal hissy fit if Naruto touched his mind again. But he still hadn't tried to touch Sasuke's—not consciously, anyway.

Naruto let go of the chain-link fence he'd collapsed against, tried standing on his own, and promptly felt his gag-reflex kick-in again.

Whoo. That did hurt. Not sure why that hurt so badly, how the hell something _//Even Sasuke, Sasuke shouldn't be able to do that, not to me, not like that.// _got in his head so deep and sudden without his permission or awareness, but whatever it was, whoever they were…he didn't recognize anyone.

Couldn't place name to pattern, place sensation to imprint, and that was, that was just fucking impossible. Or at least fucking unlikely.

The only thing that should be able to do something like that, to _him_, would be a full-fledged demon with a complete pedigree and blue-blood ribbons and a strong hand at telepathy…and he'd hunted those last two down and out of the country when he'd forged his (theirs, really, the Fox and he) shaky yet extremely powerful kingdom.

So…what the hell was that?

And more importantly—Naruto broke into an unsteady, continuously collapsing lope, trying to cover ground without eating it first—what the hell did his sex toy have to do with it? His sex toy that…usually hated him, almost all the time.

***  
"Holy crap holy crap holy cra—"

"Can you shut up?"

"Fuck you Shikamaru I _knew _we should've killed—"

"It's underground."

"What? What?"

Ino's last word was a little bit strained, just the teeniest bit stressed. Their house was torn in two. There was enough chakra in the air—vibrating off the windowpanes, the telephone lines, discoloring the sunlight into a tired raw orange—to make the invisible hairs on the back of her arms stand straight up, so her skin looked like raw chicken flesh and made her feel just as small and weak.

She was not happy about this. Plus, Kakashi was possibly dead and had just doomed them all.

"We should probably get moving," Shikamaru leaned on his left crutch. He didn't look anymore awake than he normally did. "Ready?"

She didn't look down or acted like she'd noticed that Shikamaru was touching her hand—lightly, ring and pinky fingers almost but not quite wrapped around each other. No one from the street or neighboring rooftops would notice it.

It was too easy to remember the stink of ashes so thick in the air she'd coughed her throat raw, her spit clotted with black ash and blood. Too easy remember how vulnerable she'd felt, how weak and open, utterly helpless.

Too easy to remember the smell of burning death. Her family dead. Everyone.

And now Kakashi might be dead.

And the only thing left to do, still, was run.

Ino scowled, tightened her hands before letting go. "Whatever."

Neither of them noticed a ragged figure slipping in from the street. There were bigger things to worry about.

***  
It was a little pathetic, how easily he found Sasuke's room. Not pathetic for Sasuke, but pathetic for Naruto; he was so in sync with the bastard's smell and chakra signature that he could find the ass-hole's bedroom with his eyes closed and thinking about what he wanted for dinner.

Finding her skin was harder than finding Sasuke's smell, and another shot at his pride; he'd lost touch.

_//Shitty security around here.// _

At least finding the place wasn't hard. Naruto could've done it by Sasuke's smell alone (and Hinata's and Shikamaru's and everyone else), but it was the only large building on the street cut rather elegantly into symmetrical halves. The only things that weren't mirror-perfect about the division were the roofing tiles; the south tiles hung over the cleft, while the north side had crumbled like so many missing teeth.

But it was odd; there was a clean break from the roof to the plumbing below—Naruto could see water was squirting out of pipes—yet the place was empty, bare of bodies and minds. Something had—hadn't ripped the place in two, merely cleaved a line through it. But what had happened to everyone else?

Naruto wandered and lightly trapaised his way up the eternally-creaking stairs, shrugging--provided no one he needed was dead, it didn't particularly matter. He followed his nose.

_//All right,// _Naruto began poking through the Spartan room, lifting the cheap bed sheets with his toe to peek at the dusty floor underneath, _//if I were a neurotic, cold-hearted whiny bitter slimy angst muffin, where the hell would I put my most powerful magical object? Probably not in my pants. Probably not even in this room, probably in some remote random location that no one in their right mind would--// _

Naruto opened the shallow sliding closet, the scent hitting his nose like a wrecking ball.

_//Or not. Or not. I could just be a dick. An obvious dick. Should've guessed, really.// _

There wasn't much inside the closet--one gray parka, two nice-looking katanas hanging by their sheath-strap, and heavy-looking broadsword laying on the floor.

Oh, and Naruto's box, sitting on the shelf above the clothes rack.

_//Dick.// _

It was…fair obvious, what he needed to do, what should be done. What he'd come to do, after all.

Yet…his hand stayed on the closet door.

_//Didn't…didn't need to…//_

Something bad was going to happen. He knew that; he didn't know what was going to happen, but something was.

He didn't need to read it in the sky or animals like Kakashi had—he was an animal—and even though Naruto knew, he still wasted his time staring at the inside of the closet, feeling the sweat from his hand ooze onto the door, the ache at the top of his spine and every slow, tempered beat of his heart. So slow and solemn, it felt like a march.

It would be prudent to take his box. He_ wanted _to take his box. To take his stuff back. He couldn't—

He couldn't move.

_//You…I…//_

"You don't need to panic," Naruto heard himself say coolly, sounding like he was a million miles away from earth, "it didn't work. My clever plan failed."

"I can't let you leave here alive."

He didn't answer, but he managed to pull his hand off the closet door.

_//I thought…//_

Naruto pulled the gray winter parka out, his skin burning and itching in sympathy resonance.

_//…you would love me.// _

"If you give a man a present, his very heart's desire," Naruto rubbed the collar of his jacket, watching the gray bulk bleed into a thrashed crimson leather, "he's supposed to love it, right? He's supposed to love it more than anything else in the whole world. The present is his most precious, precious beloved _thing_. Right?"

_//I gave you power. I gave you the greatest power…in the whole damn country. I gave you _myself. _And you…//_

Naruto turned around, an animal skin hanging limply from his hands, the leather an ugly patchwork quilt of old blood, hair, and maggoty-white skin, "If he throws the gift away, what does it mean?"

_//I thought…//_

"It means we're not your toys," Iruka stood in front of the closed door, hands empty, eyes empty, and apparently unarmed. "And you were never a god."

Naruto balanced his weight on his toes, waiting for Iruka to make the first move, his mind still on other matters, on other winters and darker hearts.

In reality, it hadn't been that long since the fires, since the time he'd destroyed his own village. He'd proven himself, a thousand times over, and even though Naruto had lost--or given up, thrown away--the majority of his political power, he hadn't lost any of his other powers--although they'd been worn a little thin, but not so much that he couldn't kill a lone shinobi. Any shinobi.

_//Because I did. It was real. What I felt. I didn't--//_

"Aren't you going to attack?" Iruka didn't sound sarcastic, didn't sound curious, and hadn't drawn a weapon or formed a jutsu.

Naruto absently warmed the skin in his hands, and wondered if it was too much to look for recognition in the other man's eyes, acknowledgement of who he—of who they used to be.

//I didn't lie about that. I never…//

"You can't kill me, old man," Naruto smiled faintly, "and I don't get anything out of killing your ass."

It would've been better if it'd been Kakashi-sensei. There was a cold understanding there, a comfortable distance. He'd never run crying to Kakashi-sensei, never been hugged by him. Kakashi-sensei was only a teacher who had begun to be something else, before Naruto abandoned the village.

//…I loved you.//

"You don't have a choice."

***  
Below the earth and dirt—

--the filth and carnage and useless mongrel whores and traitors—

--something dug deeper and answered and he called and was answered and he didn't he _KNEW—_

--and this was where things ended this was where things stopped this was where—

The World Ended Because

--he _wanted _it needed so mucH to keep Chil—

--didn't know what he wAnted what he need--

_//Liar lieS liar I'll have I'll have I'll//_

So then he'd have what the stone cement three hundred kilometers below sea level not deep enough for compressional waves the thunder on water but but but—

_//Bring Me//_

Pull Twist Curve Pull Push Find

//Find Me Mine Find Me Mine My My Own My Mine Find Me//

--deep enough for shear waves butcher knives through ba

So Deep Down

nothing breathed

***  
The chilling chorused howling didn't last—the dogs stopped after a few minutes, with only one or two whining loudly and a couple more barking at odd intervals.

In truth, Neji hadn't appreciated how many dogs the port town had, until he'd heard them all start howling, from the rubbery squeak of the toy dogs (however rat-like they might appear) to the bone-deep trumpet of the larger beasts in one chorus.

He didn't have Kakashi's talent with animals (unfortunately) nor Hinata's affinity for them (thank God), yet he'd be blind and stupid (and he was, adamantly, neither) not to notice the small exodus of furry four-legged beasts scrambling out of town. The dogs tied or fenced in (and a few cats) dug and chewed their way to freedom, while the rest paced behind glass windows or clawed their way out of the screens.

He'd noted the birds swarming. That hadn't been exceedingly note-worthy, though it had been graceful. The cats, dogs, rats and rabbits though—that was different. That was new.

He'd debated, earlier, between the benefits of wasting time going from house to house ordering people to leave (and would they listen to him? Shinobi were nearly as worrisome and despised as the monsters they hunted, since people thought that they both brought trouble, not working out the difficult bit of logic that perhaps shinobi only _followed_ trouble for money, but didn't create trouble itself) and the alternative of wasting time waiting for the monster to make a reappearance.

Then, surprisingly (or unsurprisingly enough, as Neji had wondered what everyone else was up to, with the possible exception of Kakashi-sensei, who was likely dead) household fire alarms, some very old war sirens, burglar alarms and even one or two more expensive car alarms started blaring, screeching, or playing pop music in the southern quarter. Despite himself, Neji flinched.

Distastefully bizarre, yet effective—Shikamaru's doing, mostly likely. How effective it would prove would be something, but it definitely freed Neji's hands to get them good and bloody.

***  
With a noise like a gunshot, concrete and asphalt alike splintered up at an angle, the few rickety buildings to the north of town creaking or collapsing or standing unmolested as the fault passed them by or passed under them.

People shouted in fear, and then regrouped outside to marvel at the damage, swear at a house just starting to catch fire or gossip about the tight-fisted nature of their neighbors and their shabby dwelling, which was now on fire.

If they noticed the dogs and cats fleeing past them, it was another oddity of dark times, a sure omen that bad things were abroad. If they heard the sirens and alarms coming from the town—and it was a small town, one could walk across it in half an hour, or twenty minutes if you were in a hurry—they probably thought it was an aftereffect of the earthquake, if they thought it all.

No one—who could?—really noticed when the same process was repeated in the east and west, with nearly the same results, until the town was hemmed in by three distinct fault lines, and the ocean on the fourth.

It didn't really occur to anyone—except possibly Kakashi out of professional interest, and Shikamaru out of curiosity—that it near impossible for Yakamura to have natural earthquakes.

***  
One never got far by breaking under pressure—hell, that'd been what the Chuunin exams had been for, to weed out the ones who'd break themselves before risking being broken by someone else. And Naruto—even though he hadn't officially passed—had driven through those exams like a madman on PCP-laced caffeine.

Sure, maybe he'd sweated a little, but he'd never actually gotten cold feet and bolted.

If necessary, he could probably spend several hours staring down Iruka-sensei. Because you certainly couldn't all it a 'show-down', or even a 'stand-down', because neither of them had drawn their weapons yet.

Hell, Naruto didn't even need a weapon to kill. All he had to do was _want _Iruka dead, and Iruka would be dead, and out of the way.

Iruka hadn't been a match for him for years. Now wasn't different. Iruka, of course, knew that, and knew that _Naruto_ knew he knew that, but that wouldn't make any difference to a man of honor like him.

Naruto found himself wondering if Iruka was going scold him, or yell. What he would do, if Iruka did.

It was minute, microscopic, but Naruto felt the floorboards tremble gently through his neon-green sandals a few seconds before Sasuke's small window panes began to clink and rattle in their frames.

He never looked away from Iruka's eyes. Neither of them had blinked in over seven minutes, maybe more.

He wondered how long they could keep this up, if someone else was going to burst through the door, who would lose patience first.

Without looking down, he knew the leather fox-skin had turned entirely red again by absorbing his chakra, healing itself instinctually of the iron and silver, healing itself of Sasuke's touch. It could protect him again; not well, but it _belonged _to him again. That was worth it.

Still holding Iruka's eyes--_//Fuck, this is taking a long time//_--Naruto rubbed his right fingers together, close to the baggy pocket in his baggy nylon shorts, and then slowly extended his arm out to his side.

A silver chain necklace—his necklace, Sasuke's collar—dangled between his fingers.

"Ninjas kill for gold," Naruto let the necklace drop. "That's his payment."

"It doesn't work that way anymore, that's not enough."

Naruto forced a grin, wondered what Iruka had gone through, exactly, and replied, "Whatever. Just make sure he gets it, wouldja?"

Then he vanished, from sight and every external and internal sense Iruka had. Melodramatic, but then that was Naruto, and—

--he didn't want to fight Iruka. Not yet.

Even after Iruka searched the room, slammed the door and raced down the hall, the windows still clinked and rattled gently. They had never stopped.

***  
A/N: More to come, took bugger FOREVER. Much thanks to Kotori for cheering me on for the last, uh, two years? Figured I'd post what I did have.


End file.
